Taking Chances
by anxioussquirrel
Summary: I read a few stories with nerdy!Blaine pining over cheerio!Kurt, and then a plot bunny came and asked: what if it was the other way round?
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Lips slide easily against lips, soft and plump, breath intermingling sweet and minty between them. It's a road travelled a thousand times over; tongues meeting in a gentle dance, fingers caressing smooth skin of cheeks and necks, bodies close enough to share heat.

Until the door swings open.

"Q! Porcelain! In my office, now. And for god's sake, stop playing tonsil tennis in the locker room. One would think you'd get bored with it after all this time."

* * *

Minutes later, the co-captains of the McKinley cheerleading squad are seated in front of their coach's desk, along with two girls alsoin uniforms, Santana and Brittany. They don't have to wait long for explanation of their presence there. Coach Sylvester pierces them with one of her determined-bordering-on-insane glares before snapping.

"Okay, the four of you are about to become my secret weapon: the singing squad." She snorts, seeing them exchange incredulous glances. "Don't look so surprised, I know you all can sing. The impromptu Christmas caroling last year? _Dreadful_ idea, but it gave me some useful info." The girls look at one another uncomfortably – the fit Coach Sylvester had thrown when she found them singing in the girls' locker room was unprecedented. "And you, Porcelain – oh well, I heard you in the showers last week, when I went there to spy."

Kurt raises his eyebrow, his tone snarky. "And that's not creepy at all."

"Oh relax, it's not like I wanted to ogle your boy parts," she shrugs, nonplussed.

"Thank god for the small mercies," Kurt mutters under his breath, but gets ignored as Coach continues.

"So, starting next week, the four of you are joining the Glee club."

"_What_?" It's Santana who explodes with what they're all thinking. "Coach, we can't, they are a bunch of _losers_!"

Coach Sylvester nods with a wry smile. "I agree. But they are a bunch of losers who will prepare you to sing at our next competition. We're good, but with this, we're going to be _invincible. _We'll take winning to a whole new level. I'm going to call it _winning Sue Sylvester style. _Okay, you know what to do. Now get out of here, there's too much estrogen in this room."

* * *

Kurt strides through the crowded corridors, head held high. People move out of his way; some heads turn. Kurt isn't naïve enough to believe it's a sign of respect – after all, this is high school; they may feel respect towards his status and popularity, but _him_, as a person? No one really cares.

Not that it matters.

Right around the corner, Azimio is pressing some scrawny freshman into the wall of lockers with one meaty hand, his other balled into a fist andhovering threateningly in front of the kid's acne-ridden face. He grins, noticing Kurt.

"'Sup, Hummel?"

Kurt smirks, the familiar expression of disdain firmly in place. "Dude, don't overexert yourself. The guy looks like a fucking wrestler."

He passes them without stopping, knowing that the jock is probably looking back at his victim in confusion. Dumb like most of them. Well, at least Kurt's place in the high school food chain wasn'tearned with fear and a letterman jacket. Sure, the red and white polyblend excuse of an outfit he wears is a big part of it, but he wouldn't be where he was if it wasn't for his insanely hard work and his brains. Many of the cheerios might be dumb as doornails; not Kurt Hummel. He's earned his place on the social ladder fair and square, with effort and time and sacrifices.

The cafeteria is crowded and loud, but Kurt doesn't stop or slow down before striding right to the beginning of the line to grab a salad and a yogurt. No one says a word, though some faces flash with annoyance. That's okay, they don't have to like him. A year and a half and he'll be free from this damn school and this whole hate-filled town, on his way to bigger, better things. In the meantime, fuck them all.

His usual place by the cheerios table is waiting for him, of course, so he slips in the chair smoothly, kisses Quinn and starts to eat, listening to the girls' chatter with a bored expression. There's never too much knowledge and gossip, after all – you never know when you can use some tidbit of information. It's boy drama again, so he suppresses the urge to roll his eyes and tunes out most of the details. Until a particular word grabs his attention.

"… I'm telling you, Kendra – he's _gay_, there's no way he'd leave you like this otherwise."

A roll of anger vibrates through Kurt's veins and he chastises himself, quickly covering his reaction with snark, in case any of them noticed the slip. "No way. Have you _seen_ the way Douchebag McDick dresses? I don't think any gay guy would be able to pull off those monstrosities without immediate implosion."

They giggle in return, but Sandy smirks, shaking her bleached blond head. "Well I don't know. Our resident fag's outfits make me want to scratch my eyes out sometimes, and he seems fine."

Like a pack of sheep, the girls all laugh and look towards the table where the current object of their mockery sits alone with hisphysics book open in front of him, immersed in reading. Blaine Anderson – a transferfrom some private all-boys school. Ajunior like Kurt, he'sa short, nerdy, openly gay boy with gel-slicked dark hair and big, thick-framed glasses; currently sporting a confusing outfit of red pants, green checkered shirt, yellow suspenders and a grey bowtie. Okay, that's definitely too much.

What Kurt doesn't point out as he shrugs and returns to his salad with a bored expression, is that no matter how confusing Anderson's outfits are sometimes, they're always _perfectly_ fitting – a feat Kendra's ex seems to be completely unable to achieve. And while they're no high-end designer stuff, Kurt knows quality clothes when he sees them.

Not that he'd ever admit to any of it out loud. He's just observant, okay?


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

On Monday afternoon Kurt and the other three cheerios find themselves in the choir room, among people who have absolutely no reason to like them and no reservations to make use of their well-exercised vocal chords to express their displeasure.

"But Mr. Schue, they're _cheerios_!" Kurt winces at the shrill exclamation. Rachel Berry, of course. Everyone knows her, though not exactly in a good way. Small, loud, stuck-up. And paranoid, it turns out. "Coach Sylvester sent them here to destroy us, you know that!"

The curly-haired man in the middle of the room raises his hands, placating. "Rachel, sit down. Now, I know we had our conflicts with Sue –" Someone behind Kurt snorts. Puckerman? It's good to know they're not the only ones risking their reputation here. "As I said, we have a deal with Coach Sylvester. We get the new members that we need for Sectionals next week, and she gets them singing for the cheerio competition."

"How do we even know they _can_ sing?" An Asian girl this time, with blue streaks in her hair. At least she keeps it calm, more curious than agitated; Kurt really has had enough of the noise they're all making. It's like a flock of parrots.

Mr. Schuester smiles at them before answering. It's probably meant to be reassuring, but feels somehow creepy instead.

"They've auditioned with me already since I didn't want to waste practice time here; and I assure you they sing well. You'll hear by yourself soon enough – I'm sure they will be a valuable addition to the club. Now, we may not be able to give our new members more than background parts in our Sectionals performance, but later, we'll use their voices better."

Kurt sighs in his chair at the back of the room. Great, he'll have to take great care not to display his real range and abilities. It was easy enough to sing just _well_ during the audition, but Kurt is very aware of the fact that he can do much better than that. Much, _much _better.

He has no interest in being pushed into a solo or any prominent position, really. Not here. Not after he put so much effort into training himself to speak in a lower voice, always calm, composed, because his unusually high pitch is more pronounced when he's stressed or excited. And he's been taunted enough for it, years ago. He'll be fine swaying in the background, if he really has to be here. Being in Glee club because Coach made them join is understandable. Revealing his love for singing and the range of his voice? He'd already been shown in middle school what these "flaws" can earn him.

"I think it's great to have new voices join us. It will give us greater vocal diversity and more song possibilities." An easy smile flashes across the choir room and Kurt quietly thanks years of Cheerio practices for his quick reflexes as he manages to suppress the little jolt at the sight. Right. Of course _he _would be in Glee club too.

"Well _sure_ you would, Blaine, you probably have the same goal in mind, which is making sure we don't win." Rachel seems to be on some sort of crusade and Kurt begins to really understand why so many of the girls hate her. He feels the beginnings of a headache.

Mr. Schuester tries to regain some sort of control over the group again. "Okay, guys, we've already been over this. No one is here to destroy the group – not Sam, not Blaine and certainly none of Sue's cheerios."

"But Mr. Schue –"

"_Enough_, Rachel. We don't have time for this. Sectionals are next week and we still haven't finalized our setlist. Let's get to work."

Kurt tunes out most of the next hour and a half, going through the motions of vocal exercises and dance moves effortlessly, his mind occupied with one particular person in the room.

Blaine Anderson. Someone who shouldn't be even a blip on Kurt's radar, unless he decided to pick up bullying after all – which he wouldn't, ever. Somehow, though, there's something in this boy that's been pulling at Kurt's attention for months now, ever since he came to McKinley. A very particular something, a thing that connects them, makes them more similar than anyone might suspect. Because Blaine is gay. He's the only teenage gay boy Kurt's ever known.

Apart from himself.

This is something that Kurt can't stop thinking about. Not in a romantic way – god, no; he's with Quinn and that's it. But there's something about Blaine that resonates within Kurt, though he wouldn't admit it to anyone.

Being out and proud in high school requires insane amounts of courage – and doesn't come without a price. Sometimes, in the darkest night hours Kurt imagines being so courageous. Coming out to his dad and his friends instead of hiding it like the most shameful secret. Not pretending anymore. Being who he is. But then he remembers the cost of such freedom.

Whenever he sees Blaine slushied or pushed into lockers, or tripped in the cafeteria during lunch – which happens all too often – Kurt's mind flashes back to the past he wants to forget; long-healed bruises and scars flaring with phantom pain like an echo.

He knows the feeling – the pain, the humiliation, the desperation and dread. He spent all of his middle school years getting into close relationships with lockers and dumpsters, toilets and slushies. And it was just because he was small and delicate-looking, with a high, _girly_ voice and passion for learning. So he made sure he'd survive high school in one piece – built a façade around himself, hid the real Kurt Hummel somewhere very deep and did what he could to be untouchable.

Now, whenever he looks at Blaine, he can't help but think, over and over again: _It could have been me_.

And after months of trying not to pay attention to the boy, Kurt's about to spend almost every afternoon in his company. Great, as if he didn't have enough on his plate - keeping his grades perfect without people noticing, cheerleading, being half of the power couple of McKinley High, and now Glee. And he'll need to fight his stupid instincts to be nice and, surprisingly, protective of Blaine, too. Ugh. Faking disdain and amusement, hiding his unhealthy fascination has been hard enough from afar.

And Blaine's easy, open smile really doesn't help anything. How can he still be so kind and trusting with what he's going through every day here? How is this even possible? He should be afraid and depressed by now, almost four months into the school year, but no – he's still smiling and nice and eager, and it breaks something deep in Kurt that he didn't know could still be broken; knowing that Blaine's still strong and whole, and even more so, that he won't be like this forever. That sooner or later, he'll turn weary, broken and afraid, just like Kurt. Like so many others.

He'd like to be able to prevent it.

* * *

Santana approaches Blaine after practice, her signature sultry smirk in place, and Kurt wants to stop her, knowing full well what she's planning. But he doesn't, of course, schooling his face into cold indifference and turning his back instead, pretending to be busy fiddling with his shoelaces. He can't help hearing them though; Santana's seductive tones loud enough to make the scene clear for everyone, and as humiliating as possible.

"Well hello, gorgeous. We didn't have a chance to hang out yet, and by hang out I mean sleep together. So what do you say? You can take me to Breadstix tonight, and then to your house or a hotel, if you prefer."

All movement around them stills as people stop gathering towards the exit and slow down to watch the free entertainment. Blaine's answer is calm, well-mannered. "Thank you, Santana. You are a beautiful girl and if I wasn't gay I would be honored, but as it is – "

Kurt clenches his teeth and dares to glance towards them. He knows Santana's mean streak much too well to hope she'd give it a rest now.

Yep, here it comes.

"Oh, I bet you just never had a chance to try it with a girl in that gay school of yours. I'm sure I could turn you straight, what do you say?"

There are quiet snickers all around and Kurt bites the inside of his cheek to keep his anger in. Santana's hand is on Blaine's chest, sliding steadily lower until he jerks back, clearly speechless, his eyes wide. It's not an unusual reaction to Santana's bluntness, but Kurt can see – and understand painfully well – that this time it's not lust tying the boy's tongue. He has to react, trying as he can to keep his tone bored.

"'Tana, leave him in peace, you don't have to sleep with every guy in the school."

She smirks and slips in the familiar come-back. "Well no, I still haven't gotten in _your_ pants, Pretty Face."

Quinn glares at her and Kurt snorts. "Good luck with that. Come on, we'll be late for practice."

Santana grabs her bag and follows Kurt, Quinn and Brittany out, but in the door she turns once more to look where Blaine still stands, stunned. "Your loss, Anderson. You'll never have such an opportunity in your life again."

Puck and his friend, Finn, laugh loudly, and Kurt notices the way Blaine's face crumbles just for a second before regaining its usual friendly expression. Seconds later the wall separates him from the view of the choir room.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Sectionals come and go the next week. New Directions (_and really, who came up with this name?_) end up in a tie with Dalton Academy Warblers, which is incidentally Blaine's old school. Kurt watches the uniform-clad group welcome their ex-member with warmth and enthusiasm that leaves little doubt how well liked and popular Blaine was there. McKinley must seem like a special kind of hell after that.

He can't help but wonder why Blaine would leave such a safe haven. It's not like he can ask – he's never actually talked with the other boy. And even if he did, Kurt can't exactly reveal that he's interested in anything connected with the gleek, much less in such private matters.

Though he _is_ interested, or at least intrigued. Blaine seems so open and uncomplicated: always genuinely nice and helpful, studying hard, eager to sing and dance in Glee. But now that Kurt has a chance to watch him closely, see him interact with other people, he can't shake the feeling that there's more to the boy than meets the eye. There are layers upon layers under this nerdy exterior, he's sure of it, and a core that is probably stronger than anything he'd ever seen. There are moments when Kurt muses what it would be like to get closer to Blaine; to finally have someone to talk to about things he's never – ever – told anyone. Would Blaine understand? Or does Kurt simply idealize him, giving him qualities he'd like to see in a friend?

Because frankly, Kurt's never had a true, close friend, one he could open up to, talk to about everything. No matter how well-liked he seems to be, the truth is that Quinn, after being his girlfriend for two years, is the closest he has to a real friend. They are similar in many ways – smart, ambitious, determined – but for obvious reasons, she doesn't know the real Kurt all that well. It's not that he's stringing her along as his beard. If anything, they're probably both using each other in one way or another, and they both know it even though they've never talked about it. There's not much chemistry between them – if any – but they're good together and they like each other.

When they became a couple in freshman year, Kurt already knew that he was gay, and Quinn seemed to be much more interested in her academic and cheerleading goals than in boys, no matter how many tried to get her. They met on the squad and it soon became apparent that they had similar ambitions – to be the best in everything they did, be popular, graduate with honors and get away from this town. Somewhere along the way, they simply decided they fit together; without any great romantic gestures or explosions of feelings. Within a year, they were co-captains of the squad and the most popular couple at school. So they continue to playtheir roles for everyone to see, and for each other too, Kurt's pretty sure. Neither of them is too interested in developing the physical side of their relationship – kissing and making out is nice, pleasant, but there's no real thrill in it. Kurt's certain that they'll stay together until graduation and then break up on friendly terms to go their separate ways.

At least that's the plan.

* * *

The first time Kurt _really_ hears Blaine sing, alone and undisturbed, is after Sectionals, over two weeks since the four cheerios joined Glee club. It's not until that solo that Kurt becomes a little obsessed with Blaine; to the point where he knows he has to do something about it.

Mr. Schue gives them an assignment that week, writing it on the whiteboard in the choir room on Monday afternoon: SELF-EXPRESSION. They are supposed to find a song that fits who they are, helps them express themselves somehow, and then sing it in front of the group. Some people take the assignment seriously, some not quite. Mercedes sings _Beautiful_ and damn, her voice is _amazing_. Puck comes up with an interesting version of _Loser_ and Santana surprises everyone with a brilliant rendition of _I'm a Bitch, I'm a Lover_. Kurt finds the task stupid and his self-imposed rules make it quite difficult to find an appropriate song, so he flatly refuses to sing anything. Blaine is the last to perform on Friday and suddenly, Kurt finds himself gaping in astonishment – at least until he manages to remind himself to stop being so damn transparent. But really, it's not easy to hide just how floored he is.

Music and voices are Kurt's hidden weakness, so Blaine's voice by itself would probably be enough to astound and enchant him – it's warm and smooth, like honey and dark hot chocolate. But then Kurt actually listens to the lyrics and he's _so_ gone. Light on his feet and graceful, that amazing voice strong and sure, Blaine sings _I Gotta Be Me_ with such raw honesty that it seems like a window into his mind, like an invitation: _this is who I am; take it or leave it_. And Kurt can't say no; not to Blaine – to himself. He needs to get to know this guy; he wants to learn more about him.

He just has to find a way to do it without raising suspicions. After all, one of the most popular guys at school can hardly strike a friendly conversation with a resident loser all of a sudden. Not without repercussions. And Blaine is as much of a loser as possible, by general consensus; even though Kurt is almost certain it's a completely wrong view.

He's a straight-A student, always active in all his classes. He's in Glee. He's gay, of course, capital offence in McKinley and the whole Lima, apparently. His appearance doesn't help either – his dark hair is always so heavily coated in gel that it looks glued on; he wears glasses in frames that are too large for his face and keep sliding down his nose, and his clothes? Kurt swears they burn his eyes sometimes with the crazy combinations of styles, colors and textures.

So no, he can't just go up to Blaine by his locker or even in the choir room and ask him to meet for coffee. But he'll find a way. Kurt Hummel always finds a way to things he really wants. And right now, he really wants to have an opportunity to talk with Blaine Anderson outside of school.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

It takes a while, but the opportunity virtually drops into Kurt's lap the first week after Christmas break, in their morning History AP class.

"This project will be half of your final grade in my class, so I suggest you put some serious thought into choosing your topic and working on it – no last minute essays, no delays, no excuses will be accepted. This assignment's aim is to prepare you for college-level projects – it includes a wide spectrum of research, writing, presentation and teamwork. Now, I know it's a lot, so I'm letting you decide on the topic yourselves. The research is to be focused on an aspect of local history or culture, but I want it described in a nation-wide, or even global context. For example, if you decide to write about history of the anthropological museum in Columbus, you need to include historical background of anthropological museums in America in general, understood? You have a month, but I expect you to present a brief outline of your topics next week." There's a murmur of voices as everyone starts discussing potential research topics with their friends. "Oh, and one more thing: I don't want the usual pairings. Work with someone you've never been paired with in my class."

Before the bell announces the end of the class a minute later, Kurt already has a plan. His heart is pounding even as he smiles at Quinn's, his usual partner, apologetic shrug. They work well together, both equally smart and focused, but it doesn't matter – she can find a project partner without difficulty. And he will make sure he will get exactly whom he wants, too.

All around them people are gathering their things and leaving, or discussing alternate pairings. In all this chaos, Blaine's calm movements and slightly slumped posture by his desk at the front of the classroom pull Kurt's attention like a beacon. Mike Chang, the only person Kurt's ever seen working with him and probably the closest to what Blaine can call a friend, is already talking about potential research topics with Quinn.

Kurt makes sure he looks suitably bored and slightly disdainful before he approaches his target. People stare as he stops by the front row of desks.

"Hey." Blaine turns, surprised; when he sees Kurt, his eyes widen even more behind the large glasses. Around them, other students already start to whisper, so Kurt keeps his voice cold and loud enough to be heard by those eavesdropping. "I need a good grade on this thing. Will you be my project partner?"

Someone dares to snicker at the word _partner_, muttering something about _that fag_ and _not giving him ideas_, but one glare from Kurt and they're retreating hastily. Blaine's face is neutral, his eyes cast down.

"Sure. You want to discuss topics?"

"Lunch break, library."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Kurt turns and leaves without another word, feeling like an asshole. Telling himself repeatedly that he's just doing what he has to do doesn't help this time.

* * *

Meeting during lunch break is a way to avoid attention and it should only take them a moment, but Kurt feels bad for taking away Blaine's chance to eat in peace, and even worse because he can't act thoughtfully and bring him something instead. They're on school grounds, after all, the walls have ears. And eyes. Finally he decides that even Kurt the Cheerleader can be in a generous mood sometimes, and grabs two apples for them on his way to the library.

Blaine is already there when Kurt enters, sitting at a table with a notebook laid out in front of him, rows of even, neat writing covering the pages. His head snaps up when Kurt calls out from several feet away, and he catches the apple easily. Kurt smirks half-heartedly and slips into a chair opposite, biting into his apple with a juicy crunch. "Nice reflexes."

Blaine's clearly tense, but manages a ghost of a smile. "Thanks. So, I was thinking… how do you imagine this thing going? I mean, will you do any part of this or did you want me to do it all? Because I'm not sure I'd be comfortable with that."

Kurt swallows another bite his of apple – it's bad manners to speak with your mouth full, after all – before leaning closer to Blaine and frowning.

"I hope I don't _look_ dumb and you're just assuming that I must be since I'm a cheerio, but you've got me wrong, Blaine. I'm not looking for a sucker to do the job for me. I'm a straight-A student like you; and so is Quinn, just so you know. I work hard, and I don't want my grade ruined by some half-brained project partner."

"Oh fuck, I'm sorry, I just –" Blaine blushes pink.

"You just assumed. It's okay, I don't exactly advertise my grades. So, I've been thinking – you transferred from Dalton, right?" Blaine nods. "From what I heard before Sectionals, it seems to be a school with quite a lot of history and traditions. I thought we may write about it, set in the background of the history of private schools in America. It would be a big topic, but I think that we'd be able to handle that."

Blaine opens and closes his mouth soundlessly a couple of times before closing his notebook and smiling widely. All tension gone from his compact frame, he looks so enthusiastic now that Kurt has to smile a little.

"Brilliant! Okay, I won't even talk about my idea, yours is much better. I'm sure I could get some historical source materials as an ex-student, maybe we could even interview the archiver? Or the history professor there – he's a genius, been working there for 40 years. And we could – "

Kurt laughs, short and surprised. "Whoa, whoa, wait. We'll discuss it all in detail when we meet to do some actual work; now it's time to try and get some lunch. I have cheerios and now Glee, too, so my afternoons are mostly packed, and we should meet twice a week, I think, so – "

"Whenever you have time. My afternoons and evenings are free aside from Glee."

Oh. This is just _sad_, even though it should help them with setting up some kind of schedule for their project meetings. His face carefully controlled, Kurt thinks quickly.

"Okay, we don't have Glee tomorrow and I should be done with Cheerios early, around four, I think. Where should we meet?"

"My house? I mean, if you – um, or we could go to the library, instead." Blaine is blushing again and Kurt suddenly wants to touch his hand – just a friendly gesture – and tell him that he understands and doesn't take it as some kind of pick up line just because Blaine is gay. But he doesn't, of course. How could he? God, he needs to get a grip, what's going on with him around this boy?

"Your house is fine. Give me your phone." He taps his own number quickly into Blaine's cell, then calls himself and saves the number under ".-O-O-.". After all, Blaine is too rare a name to risk having it in his contact list for anyone to see. Now, he can always say it's his eye-doctor or something. He returns Blaine's phone. "Text me your address, I'll be there tomorrow after four. Now, I gotta go. Thanks!"

With that, he's gone. When he reaches the cafeteria, his heartbeat is back to normal and the bitch face set firmly in place, just in case.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

The next afternoon, Kurt is showered and changed into "civilian" clothes when he pulls up in front of a small cream-painted house with a moss-green roof and a swing on the porch. Blaine opens the door so fast it looks like he was standing behind it waiting for him to ring the bell. Well, maybe he was. He's still in his school clothes, minus the pink bowtie, though some hair has escaped the captivity of its gelled prison by now and curled along his temples.

There's a little awkwardness as they say their hellos, the ice not yet broken with their single encounter in the library. Neither of them are exactly sure what to expect from the other. It's Blaine who breaks the tension, his natural friendliness overcoming hesitation.

"So, do you believe in catching gay by proximity?" he asks conversationally as Kurt hangs his jacket and picks up his bag. "Because if you do, we should settle at the kitchen table. It wouldn't be as comfortable, but at least you could focus on the project and not worry that I'm going to touch you by accident. Or, you know, on purpose."

There's no malice in his voice, just a slight teasing, and Kurt realizes that this kind of distance must have taken a hell of a long time to develop. Which means Blaine had probably been bullied for being gay – among other things – even before he came to McKinley. Something clenches in Kurt's chest at the memories of his middle school and the thought of how narrowly he avoided a similar fate now.

The silence is stretching and with a start, Kurt realizes that Blaine's still waiting for him to reply.

"No, it doesn't bother me." _And it's not like I could get any more gay anyway_, he adds in his head.

"Good, so we can go up to my room then and settle more comfortably there. I have a few Web pages to show you, and a long e-mail from the history professor I told you about. Do you want something to drink?"

"Just water, thanks."

They take their glasses of water upstairs, to Blaine's room. It's nice; tidy and tastefully furnished; manly but cozy. It only seems to strengthen the feeling Kurt's had all along, that there's more to Blaine than meets the eye – so very much more. There are a lot of books there, many of which Kurt has read and loved; there's evidence of Blaine's interests in polo and fencing, photography and music. And not just listening and singing, but playing, too – stacks of CDs fill a long shelf, there's a guitar lying on the bed and a keyboard in a corner. Sheet music litter the desk until Blaine gathers them up and puts them away on a shelf.

Kurt's intrigued – he's fascinated, more so by the minute as they ease seamlessly into work, planning and outlining their project, dividing tasks and brainstorming ideas. Blaine is hands down the best project partner Kurt's ever had. Quinn is brilliant, of course, but their ways of thinking are quite different and often they spend too much time negotiating angles and approaches until they reach a compromise that doesn't really satisfy either of them. Not to mention, sooner or later they end up kissing on her bed.

Blaine, on the other hand, seems to read Kurt's mind – it sounds crazy, but it feels like they're in synch, sharing the same mind-space. Their ideas are similar, yet different enough to complement each other; they don't need to explain anything in detail – the other always seems to grasp any concept immediately and run with it. It's so smooth that it's exhilarating. And extremely effective.

After an hour they're both surprised to be done with what they've hoped to accomplish today, including the short presentation of their chosen topic for the class next week. They look at each other, grinning, before they remember they're not friends, not really, and look away quickly. There's still a smile in Blaine's voice, though, when he says, "I'd say we make a good team, Mr. Hummel."

Kurt smiles too, the sudden tension releasing. "I'd have to agree, Mr. Anderson."

They busy themselves gathering papers and notes, and the silence is comfortable enough that Kurt doesn't mind it when Blaine makes a careful step into the personal realm.

"So I'm guessing you're not just counting on the cheerio scholarship then, when it comes to college?"

Kurt shakes his head with an expression of mock horror.

"God, no. I mean, it'll be nice to know that there's an option if everything else fails, but I have other plans for college and they don't include dreadful polyester uniforms." Damn, he already said too much. What is it with this guy that he seems to bring out the honesty in him?

"Interesting. I thought you rather liked cheering and the uniform."

Kurt just smiles – he's already said enough – and reverses the questioning. "What about you? What are your plans? Law? Medicine?"

"Music, actually." Blaine blushes slightly and looks away. "Or musical theatre. At least that's what I want; my parents try to convince me otherwise."

Kurt raises an eyebrow, surprised. "A performer then? I wouldn't guess, with your academic achievements. But you'd be good at it. As far as I can tell, I mean."

"Thanks."

There's a moment of awkward silence then, hesitation before a possible jump into deep water, but it's too early and Kurt's suddenly tired and a bit afraid of the effect Blaine seems to have on his carefully built defense mechanisms. So he picks up his bag, they set the date of their next meeting and say goodbye.

* * *

It's a few days later and they've just finished dividing and discussing all the research they need to do for their project – Blaine will take the Dalton part while Kurt takes care of the background, and then they'll compile their notes and write the essay together. His things already packed, Kurt dares to ask the question that's been nagging at him since their last meeting.

"Why music? I mean – you're obviously really talented, but how do you know that's what you want to do your whole life?"

Blaine perches at the edge of the desk and shrugs, the shy smile on his face making him look somehow more open than Kurt's ever seen him.

"I just… know. I'm good at some other stuff too, so I guess I could do many things. Like my father says, law or business would give me certainty I won't starve. But music… it makes me feel alive. I know that's where I'm supposed to be, when I perform. I feel strong, invincible like nowhere else. There are things I'm unable to say, but I can express them in song. There are problems that seem impossible to solve or even survive, but music makes them better. It's everything, it's part of me. And it just comes natural to me, you know?"

"I get it."

"You do?"

"Yes."

Kurt's waiting for the obvious question, unsure what he'll say when it comes. It's not like he can admit that he gets it, because music makes him feel the same. Or that fashion is like that for him, too – he just sees these things, it clicks, it's clear and understandable without words – the forms and colors, lines and designs.

The question never comes – Blaine just looks at him curiously and lets it go. They talk about Glee for a moment longer, and then Kurt goes home again, secretly wishing he had a reason to hang out with Blaine a little longer.

* * *

The third time they meet, after discussing Dalton Academy for over two hours – and really, they have some fascinating (and ridiculous) history there – Kurt can't hold the question in any longer.

"Why did you transfer?" He catches himself quickly, seeing Blaine tense. "Sorry, you don't have to answer that, it was rude of me to ask. It's just… when you talk about it, and the Warblers, it's clear that you felt really good there, and it seems like a respectful and safe place. Why would you move to McKinley where you're…"

"… a bottom feeder? A loser? Treated like trash?"

Kurt blushes. It sounds terrible, but he can't deny that's what it is. "Yeah."

Blaine's eyes flash something hard and proud as he raises his head, looking Kurt straight in the eyes.

"My parents couldn't afford another year of Dalton tuition, even with a scholarship, so I didn't have a choice."

"I'm sorry."

The silence stretches between them, awkward, and Kurt feels terrible for asking, but also because suddenly he can imagine with perfect clarity what this transfer meant to Blaine. How hard it must have been to come from the safe walls of Dalton with its no tolerance policy, to the torturous corridors of McKinley. And yet, Blaine remained himself.

It was mostly curiosity that pushed Kurt into wanting to get to know this boy. But now, it starts to look a lot like admiration, too. And honestly, he can't help but admit that he simply likes Blaine. His brilliant mind and nice demeanor, his sense of humor and the way he seems to accept Kurt, no matter who he is.

Really, Blaine is everything Kurt would want to see in a friend.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

The project is coming together smoothly and by the end of the third week Kurt has to admit to himself that he's going to sorely miss the afternoons spent in Blaine's company. It's not like they will have any reason to meet outside of school once it's done. Sure, they are friendly towards each other and always talk a little after they're done working, but that's it. And their relationship – or lack thereof – at school never changed at all. For all everyone knows, Kurt and Blaine barely notice each other. It has to be this way, Kurt keeps telling himself every time he wants to sit by Blaine in Glee or at lunch; every time he notices something funny or interesting that he knows Blaine would appreciate when no one else around Kurt would. He can't go against the status quo. It would be stupid and dangerous, and could ruin everything Kurt has built in the last two years to protect himself.

But then again, he doesn't want to just let Blaine disappear from his life, not after getting that tiny taste of what it would be like to be his friend. He just doesn't really know what he could do – or rather, he knows, but is almost certain he wouldn't dare to do it. Because _he_ is the problem here, not Blaine; _he_ is the one who would have to open up and offer something more than the obligatory class project. He's almost certain Blaine is open to the idea of meeting with Kurt again, hanging out – movies, coffee, shopping, whatever. His social calendar isn't exactly stuffed and he seems to like Kurt, too. But…

Yeah, Kurt would have to drop his defenses and let Blaine in, let him see beyond Kurt the Cheerleader. Because Kurt wants a real friend, and you can't really be friends with someone unless you are real yourself. And he's just not ready for this. Frankly, he's terrified just thinking about it.

How can he be sure he can trust Blaine with this knowledge? One well directed piece of gossip and the whole intricate lie of Kurt's image would shatter. And who would have better motivation to use any discriminating knowledge than someone at the bottom of the social ladder? Not that Kurt has ever hurt or bullied Blaine personally, but there may be a grudge there, right? He can't risk it.

At least that's what he keeps telling himself every time his heart aches with yearning to have a true friend at last. Even though there's a part of him that's absolutely certain that Blaine's not that guy; that he deserves the trust.

Kurt can't risk it. He just adds friendship to the list of things he can't have until he's out of here, along with honesty, music, fashionable clothes and love.

* * *

It's all because of a stupid headache.

Kurt's supposed to drive to Blaine's house for the last time on the Monday before their project is due, after Cheerios practice. They need to wrap up the final details and go over the presentation once again. Instead, Kurt ends up back in his darkened room half an hour after classes end. Coach Sylvester sent him home when he almost passed out during warm-ups. He has these intense headaches sometimes – nothing that a dose of Advil and an hour of nap wouldn't help, but he's pretty useless while it lasts, weak and nauseous, his vision blurry from the pain.

He has enough clarity of mind to call Blaine before dropping to the bed with a cold compress. The phone is picked up on the second ring.

"Hey Kurt, what's up?" Blaine sounds terribly chipper. And _loud_.

"Ow, shh." Kurt knows he croaks, but he can't be bothered right now. It hurts. "Sorry, I have a headache from hell. Could you come over to my house instead? Around six? I need to lie down for an hour or two."

Blaine's voice is barely more than a whisper now.

"Sorry. Sure, just give me your address. Are you sure you still want to do this today?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine by then." Kurt dictates his address, hangs up and a moment later, he's out of it.

* * *

He wakes up from the nap without the headache, but his mind is still fuzzy and half-asleep. A quick shower helps only a little and he's just brewed a pot of fresh coffee when the doorbell rings, announcing Blaine's arrival.

"Coffee?" Kurt offers in lieu of a greeting as he opens the door, a cup of his café-au-lait clutched tightly to his chest.

Blaine smiles widely, stepping in. "Never say no to coffee. How's your head?"

"Still asleep. But much better." Kurt leaves him to take off his jacket and moves to the kitchen to take out the second mug. Blaine joins him a minute later. "How do you take it?"

"Black, sweet."

Kurt pours the coffee, points to the sugar bowl and teaspoons and dives back into his coffee mug. When he looks up again, his brain stirring awake, he suddenly notices the change in Blaine. He's dressed in simple jeans and a striped long-sleeved t-shirt, but the biggest difference are his glasses. These are much smaller than the monstrosities Blaine wears to school – the lenses rectangular and thin-framed; they suit him, accentuating his features instead of distorting and covering them. Kurt makes a mistake of looking once again and…

Damn. His eyes. Blaine has the most beautiful eyes he's ever seen. Hazel? Amber? Golden? It's hard to say with the artificial light and glass reflecting it, but they're so warm and kind, and the long eyelashes make them irresistibly beautiful.

Kurt feels something new and foreign, a flutter somewhere beneath his ribs, a gasp ready to take off and fly, so he forces himself to look away. It's the fuzziness of his brain. An aftereffect of the headache. Some leftover confusion from the nap. Better to go start on the project.

Coffee in hand, he leads Blaine downstairs to his room, still busy actively ignoring his reaction. It's only when he pushes open the door and they come in that he stops abruptly, coffee sloshing around, almost spilling.

What was he thinking, taking Blaine down here? They could work comfortably in the kitchen – even more comfortably, probably, and without the feeling that this boy, this brave, smart, _forbidden_ boy is now looking into Kurt's very soul with intrigued expression. Because while Kurt has no way of knowing what Blaine expected to see in his room – probably all sorts of Cheerios awards and memorabilia, and posters of girls – he is absolutely certain it wasn't this. It's the first time he's sharing his sanctuary with anyone, even Quinn has never been here, and it feels unbearably intimate.

Blaine takes a long while looking around, and Kurt knows what he sees – the carefully chosen colors and textures, every detail planned and thought out. His vanity with its plethora of beauty products, the CD stand full of Broadway soundtracks, old standards, Lady Gaga, Whitney, Celine... The shelf with Kurt's DVDs, taken over by musicals and old classics. His half-open closet with dozens of daring, perfectly matched designer outfits he hardly ever gets to wear.

Blaine's eyes finish their final swipe of the room and rest on Kurt's face, curious and kind; and he's never felt so vulnerable and open. Ever.

"Kurt, your room is amazing!" Kurt lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Why does he care that much about this guy's opinion anyway? "Are you sure you're not gay? With a taste like this?"

The question is clearly an attempt at a lighthearted joke, a slight tease, but for a second Kurt stands paralyzed. What if he said he was? What if he admitted it finally, to someone other than himself? To this boy who is cuter and smarter and tougher than anyone gives him credit for; surely he would understand?

But it's insane, of course. He can't, not before he's in college somewhere far away; nobody can know until then. And what is he thinking? He hardly knows Blaine, he's probably idealizing him. For all he knows, the guy can have a big mouth and a cruel streak. Kurt's biggest secret would probably end up plastered all over McKinley's walls in a heartbeat, a well deserved revenge for the hard times the cheerios have been giving Blaine all along.

So he scoffs – attempts to scoff anyway. "Of course not, haven't you _seen_ my girlfriend?"

But it comes out weak, his voice breaking over the lie; his eyes sting treacherously and he can't stop two tears sliding hot down his cheeks. Kurt freezes, mortified – it's as good as a confession unless he thinks quickly, turns it into something else. But his brain refuses to cooperate, and the next instant Blaine's hand is on his cheek, broad and warm, his thumb wiping a tear away. His eyes are earnest and concerned when Kurt dares to look up. He feels a tear trembling on the swell of his lower lip and then it's gone too with a gentle stroke of a thumb, and Kurt shudders. God, it shouldn't feel like this, it's just a touch of a fingertip…

"Kurt, are you alright?" Blaine looks worried now and Kurt comes back to himself with a startle.

"What? Yeah, of course, sorry. Just… just a bad day and then the headache, I guess I'm a bit out of sorts. Sorry, we should start on the presentation."

Miraculously, Blaine leaves it at that, nodding and stepping away, the room suddenly colder.

"Sure. What do you want to start with?"

* * *

Their meeting doesn't go too well this time. Kurt is tense and anxious, so they only talk about the project, and every bit of silence seems stilted and awkward. Blaine goes home as soon as they are done, a trace of sadness in his eyes – or maybe it's just what Kurt wants to see there, because his own sadness is gnawing at his heart, hidden deep under all his layers.

By nightfall, Kurt has convinced himself that Blaine _knows_ already, and that he won't hesitate to use this information against him. He barely sleeps that night, expecting hell in school the next day. He can't believe he basically told the guy he barely knows about his true self. And not just any guy – the guy who has every reason to use it against him after everything Kurt never stopped his girls or his jock "friends" from doing. It would be a fair revenge for all the slushies and taunting in the corridors, every homophobic slur. True, Kurt may never have participated in the bullying himself, but he watched it all too often, with a smirk plastered to his face, part of his long-learned façade. It doesn't matter that in his heart, he wanted to stop all this. What matters is that he never did. And now he's going to pay for it.

Kurt briefly considers faking a cold or a stomachache so that he can stay home, but decides against it – better to get this over with. But by the time he steps out of his car in the McKinley parking lot, his stomach is clenching so hard he really regrets eating any breakfast. Taking a deep breath, head held high, his superior bored expression in place, Kurt enters the school, ready for anything they may throw at him. Or at least as ready as he'll ever be.

Except nothing happens.

Everyone still looks at him with the mixture of awe and anxiety or, in some girls' cases, adoration. Quinn is waiting at his locker, as she often does, to greet him with a kiss. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, but it still doesn't mean Kurt's safe. The moment he sees Blaine for the first time today, he tries to gauge the boy's reaction, but either there is nothing different about it or Blaine Anderson is one hell of an actor. He just smiles at Kurt, the way he always does, and goes his own way. How can he have such ammunition and not use it? _How_? There's no threat in Blaine's eyes, no knowing smirk on his face; he behaves as if nothing happened last night – as if Kurt Hummel, McKinley's most popular boy and head cheerleader, didn't practically tell him that against what everyone knows, he's gay. A gay boy, loving fashion and musicals, and old movies; not a loud, bitchy athlete who enjoys the privilege of regular makeout sessions with the ice queen herself, Quinn Fabray.

Kurt is still tense for the rest of the day, but as hours fly by, it becomes clear that nothing is going to happen – no outing, no scandal. By the time Glee is over, Kurt is determined to talk to Blaine. He can't live every day like this, not knowing where he stands.

So he sends his unholy trinity of girls away and catches up with Blaine before he has a chance to leave the choir room, the last one as usual.

"Hey, wait, can we talk? About yesterday?"

Blaine stops, surprised.

"Yesterday? Is there anything we forgot to cover?"

"What? Oh, no, nothing like that. It's just… about my reaction, you know-"

Blaine smiles – his normal, warm smile without a hint of a threat.

"Kurt. You had a bad day, I get it. I'm not going to draw any conclusions from your reactions if that's what you're worried about. I won't talk about you with anyone, unless we're discussing the project. I know you don't want to be associated with me. So relax. It's fine. I'll see you tomorrow in History and then you'll be free of me."

With that, Blaine's gone, leaving Kurt torn somewhere between relieved and deeply, painfully ashamed.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Their presentation goes perfectly well, of course, but as they leave the classroom, Kurt can't feel the satisfaction of job well done or joy about the perfect grade. He just feels sad. They exchanged _thank you_s before returning to their seats, and now there's no longer any reason for them to speak again. And as he stays back, watching his could-have-been friend disappear around the corner, he bites his tongue and fights the urge to call out after Blaine, stop him and invite him for coffee. Because he can't.

He _can't_.

* * *

The next two weeks are terrible. Kurt feels like he's suddenly suffocating under all the masks he's been wearing for so long, his red-and-white uniform feels like a prison. He can't stand all the stupid small talk about nothing, all the idiots and jerks he's supposed to call friends. Every evening he mopes around the house, his extensive Broadway playlist loud in his speakers, but even _Wicked_ doesn't help. Try as he might, he just can't stop thinking about Blaine. Once, he even wakes up in the middle of the night with a raging erection and a vague memory of slightly rough fingertips on his lips, and _whoa_, that's disturbing. Kurt does think about boys _this way_, but it's never been an actual person – more like concepts of emotions and touches, all pretty innocent. And he doesn't even think about Blaine like this – he just thinks he could be a true friend.

As it is, Kurt's suddenly very aware of the fact that he has no one to hold intelligent conversation with, and he feels like he's going crazy with it sometimes. Blaine doesn't pay him any attention, even Quinn is having one of her moody phases lately where she doesn't really want to talk. They act like they always do at school, holding hands and kissing, sitting together, but after classes and practices Quinn – to Kurt's hidden relief – doesn't have time for him, claiming she needs a bit of distance.

Until she doesn't.

* * *

It's a few days before Valentine's Day when Quinn invites Kurt over after Cheerio practice. She looks lovely with her long hair loose and a simple white dress accentuating her slim body. Even if he's not into girls, Kurt can appreciate the aesthetic appeal.

They end up lying on her bed kissing. Quinn's very much into it today and Kurt feels a bit startled by this passionate, initiative side of his girlfriend. It's new and a little scary; he liked the reserved, calm Quinn better, he thinks. The Fabrays are Catholics, devoutly religious at that – a fact that forced Kurt to cover yet another aspect of his true self, his atheism – and Quinn herself is the president of the Celibacy Club at school. Her lack of interest in sex and determination to keep things between them relatively innocent is one of the things that make them fit so well. After two years of being together they still haven't gone much beyond first base, and the most daring things so far have been a few hickeys here and there.

Except now it's beginning to change, apparently, as evidenced by Quinn's breath growing shallow, her kisses more urgent and a small moan escaping her kiss-puffy lips. And then she pulls away, takes Kurt's hand and with a seductive smile and wide, darkened eyes guides it right to –

_Oh god_. Before Kurt knows it, his hand is sliding over impossibly smooth, warm skin, right under the thin cotton until his fingers meet the tight, hard bud of a nipple, and he gasps, wide-eyed. For a few shock-filled seconds all he can think is, _No, that's a boob. Boobs aren't part of the plan. Help please?_, but then his brain kicks back in and he realizes the seriousness of his situation. He's supposed to be _straight_. What straight teenage boy wouldn't react appropriately to being allowed to touch his girlfriend's breast? And for the very first time, too? He should probably be on a verge of coming right now, judging by all the jocks' conversations in the locker room that he _really_ didn't want to hear.

Well, he's not. He's about as far from aroused as possible without some gory pictures in front of him. And he has about fifteen seconds to change it, or at least pretend convincingly enough, before Quinn realizes that it's not just shock paralyzing him.

So he does the first thing that comes to mind – he closes his eyes, smoothes his palm over the gentle curve and thinks of golden eyes and guitar-calloused fingertips on his cheek and lips. And then he lets them slide down his neck, their slight roughness igniting sparks in their wake as they go lower, lower over his chest, his nipple, down his belly... By the time the imaginary fingers touch the zipper of his jeans, Kurt's half-hard and whimpering quietly against Quinn's soft lips. There's a part of him that cringes and blushes furiously at the idea of using Blaine's image to get turned on, and another that wonders when exactly the boy has become wank material, but mostly, he's enjoying it way too much.

So it's a relief when Quinn moves gently away – premature relief, it turns out. She's a little flushed, her green eyes sparkling, and her voice is breathy when she whispers, "After junior prom, I want to give you something, Kurt. I want to touch you. You've been so patient, a perfect gentleman; you more than deserve this. After we win Prom King and Queen, I want to make you come."

* * *

Five minutes later Kurt's in his car after the most awkward exit he's ever had, he's sure of it. Thankfully, Quinn seemed to take his haste to return home as a sign of an uncontrollable hard on, and obviously, he didn't try to correct her. He just wanted to get out and allow himself to panic freely.

He has no idea what to do, he just knows that he can't go home, not yet. He needs space to think and even though he could lock himself in his room, on the way in he'd have to face his dad, who would know that something happened after one look at his face. And what could Kurt tell him? _I'm freaking out because my girlfriend of two years just let me touch her boob and promised to get me off after prom_?

Yeah, right.

So he's driving; without a destination in mind, he's cruising the streets on autopilot, the turmoil in his head like heavy storm clouds, black and roiling, threatening. The thing is, Kurt can't do that – not to Quinn, not to himself. He'd compromised so much already, sacrificed such a huge part of himself on the popularity altar; he'd reached his limits, he can't give any more. Quinn has already had his first date, first kiss, first relationship; first slow dance and first romantic walk in the moonlight – all of them silently grieved in the solitude of his room at night, when no one could see Kurt's tears. It was all so different from everything he'd ever secretly dreamed of. And no matter how many times he tells himself that those kisses and touches and memories don't matter, that he'll have his _real_ first times with a boy one day, the ones that count – deep in his heart he knows it doesn't work like that. He can't erase what already happened and start with a clean slate.

He can't give Quinn any more now, another precious first; what's more, he doesn't want to take hers, either. He's not her first boyfriend and she'd been kissed before, but today was the first time anyone's ever touched her breast. And now that moment is forever the picture she will remember – Kurt's nervous, tense face instead of some lucky guy's, crazily in love with her for all the right reasons, awed and thankful and wanting, like she deserves. It burns Kurt's throat with a bitter taste of dirty conscience.

He told himself, right at the beginning and many times since then, that it was fine pretending like that, that it was fair, because they both wanted the same – popularity, social status and someone they liked by their side. Someone who could be half of the perfect couple, yet without all the drama and hormonal fluctuations, and pressure. They fit together well, both aware it isn't love, even though outside they project such an image. For those two years they've been more friends than anything else; they kissed, held hands, made out, but there was never much – if any – true chemistry between them. It was their _thing_ – until now; until Quinn decided she wanted more. More than Kurt was ready to give her.

What can he do now? Coming out is out of the question. Break up with her? And how would he explain that? _I'm sorry, but you put too much sexual pressure on me_? Sure, _that_ wouldn't make him look gay at all. There's just no easy way out.

Kurt's head is beginning to pound, his eyes are stinging as he pulls over – and startles, realizing where he is. The familiar cream façade with green roof tiles and shutters stands before him, the windows brightly lit and inviting. Blaine's house. He hasn't chosen this destination, yet here he is. How appropriate. Of course, Blaine would be the perfect person to talk to about this – the only person Kurt knows who would probably understand. There are only two problems. They're not friends and Kurt is _very _deep in the closet.

Still, he can't make himself turn the car and go home. The need to talk to someone is so strong it feels like he'll explode if he doesn't let at least some of this out. If not with Blaine, then who? There's no one; there never was, and he's been doing fine. He can go on like this, it's just a moment of weakness. He'll just sit here for a bit longer, maybe he'll calm down a little, and then he'll go home.

The door to the house opens just then, and Blaine steps out onto the porch, gesturing to Kurt to come inside.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Driving away is really not an option now, is it? Kurt takes a deep breath before getting out of the car and walking towards Blaine, painfully aware how awkward this feels. Not only haven't they spoken since their presentation two weeks ago, but just today Kurt has basically fantasized about Blaine. While being in an intimate situation with his girlfriend. God, what was he thinking, coming here? Oh, right. He wasn't.

Now that he's close enough to see Blaine clearly, Kurt barely manages to hide a surprised gasp. Blaine looks… different. _Completely_ different. His hair is curling softly around his face, the hideous glasses are gone, replaced by the other pair, and his clothes almost make Kurt blush. He looks relaxed and at ease in low-slung yoga pants and a snug black t-shirt clinging to his chest. His _very well-defined_ chest. Short sleeves are hugging Blaine's shoulders, ending right over the sculpted biceps that have always been well hidden under layers of clothes. Suddenly, Kurt feels very hot. He realizes he's staring when he hears a familiar voice, ringing with surprise.

"Hi Kurt. I saw you through the window, why didn't you come to the door?"

Kurt startles, blushing a little. Right.

"Um, hi. I wasn't sure you'd want to see me. I mean, we're not exactly friends." Right, _that's_ a clever thing to say – like it wasn't Kurt's own fault they weren't. "I was just um… driving by."

If Blaine's surprised by his decidedly odd behavior, he doesn't show it – he just looks at Kurt curiously for a moment before nodding with his easy smile.

"Sure I want to see you. Come in, I'll just finish putting away the dishes. Would you like some tea?"

"I'd love some, thank you."

Blaine leaves for a moment as Kurt takes off his coat and shoes, and he can hear him talking with someone. When he comes back and leads Kurt to the kitchen, there's already a steaming red mug of tea waiting for him on the table. A beautiful, black-haired woman with eyes as gorgeous as Blaine's smiles at him from the far counter.

"So you're my Blaine's friend from the new school then?"

Kurt feels himself blush. "I'm Kurt Hummel. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Anderson."

"Good to meet you too, Kurt. I'm glad Blainey is making new friends. He's lonely up here, after leaving all his friends back at Dalton."

"Mom." Blaine looks up from where he's pulling the clean dishes out of the washer. "I'm fine, I told you. I have friends in Glee."

"Mm, so you say. I've never met any of them. So, Kurt, are you in Glee club too?"

Kurt takes a sip of tea to buy some time – it's strong, black, with a hint of vanilla; soothing.

"Actually, I –"

Blaine interrupts him suddenly.

"Yes, he is – he just joined recently. He's got a really nice voice."

Mrs. Anderson smiles, her eyes bright.

"I hope I get to hear you sing in one of the competitions."

"Mom used to sing professionally, she comes to see me whenever I perform."

Done with the dishes, Blaine leans against the nearby counter, and Kurt can't take his eyes away from the muscles playing in his arm as he brings his own red mug to his lips. It's so ridiculously manly and Kurt has never felt more physically aware of just how gay he is. Blushing, he looks away seconds later, his reason for being here suddenly back at the forefront of his mind. Blaine must have noticed something, because his tone changes slightly, from amused to almost concerned.

"Mom, we'll go up to my room now, unless you need me to do anything else?"

She smiles. "No, of course you can go, boys. Here, take some cookies with you."

* * *

Now that they're alone without the safety net of books and project tasks, Kurt's not sure what to talk about. So he blurts the first thing that comes to mind.

"You look really good in these glasses. Why don't you wear them to school?"

Blaine looks surprised. "These things? I don't know, because they're old? And not really fashionable. The woman at the optic store recommended thick frames as the new fashion statement."

"Yeah, but they don't suit you. You look so much better in these."

Blaine laughs. "Really? Thanks. Then maybe I should wear them after all. They're much more comfortable, honestly."

The silence is thick again and Kurt's grappling for something to say when Blaine settles on the edge of the bed and looks at him questioningly with his (_beautiful, oh why so beautiful_) amber eyes, his head tilted a little to the right.

"So what's wrong?"

Kurt startles as he settles in an armchair opposite, his mug still in hand.

"What do you mean?"

"Something's bothering you."

"Is it that obvious?" Damn. Kurt hoped to be able to conceal it better and avoid the topic whatsoever.

Blaine shrugs. "It is to me. Do you want to talk about it?"

He's about to say _no_ and insist that Blaine's mistaken, that everything's fine. Instead, the vaguely phrased truth about today's date with Quinn spills out of him among a lot of blushing, followed by a short, rambling summary of their history together – the _official_ version, of course.

Blaine frowns slightly, shaking his head.

"So wait. She wants to go further, and you don't. Why don't you tell her that you aren't ready?"

Kurt lets out an exasperated sigh.

"Blaine, we've been together for over two years, it's already weird that we don't do more than make out." Blaine's eyes widen, his lips forming a small_ o_. Kurt arches his brow. "See, you thought she wants to go all the way, too, right? I already look like a freak for not even _trying_ to go further, you know what happens when it comes out that I don't _want_ her to even touch me um… _there_?"

He puts the mug on Blaine's night table and curls in on himself in the armchair, knees hugged to his chest and his burning face hidden. What is he doing, talking about it with Blaine of all people? It's not like he can help him in any way. Except, the fact that Blaine is who he is makes him more qualified in the subject than anyone else Kurt knows. He's so _tired_ all of a sudden. Not just of today – of all this pretending, playing somebody he isn't. It's just one of these days, it happens sometimes, and he really should get back home, to his room, close the door and wait till it passes.

He can feel Blaine's hand touch his shoulder briefly, a reassuring gesture, before it moves away.

"So… maybe you should talk with Quinn? Tell her why you don't want this, maybe figure out what to do for you to feel ready for it? You said you two are good friends, I'm sure she'll understand and try to help –"

"She can't help the fact that I'm _gay_."

It's out of Kurt's mouth before he even realizes he said anything, but when he does, he feels paralyzed, even though a small part of his brain cheers. Blaine is silent for what feels like hours, until Kurt dares to look up, terrified of what he'll see. But the golden eyes are warm, the handsome face calm. Blaine smiles.

"Kurt, the fact that you don't want one girl to touch you intimately doesn't mean you're gay. Maybe she's just not –"

"No." Kurt has no idea where this comes from, but now that the magic words have passed his lips for the first time, it feels like a dam breaking. He said it; he may just as well say everything. "No, Blaine. I _am_ gay, I'm not confused or searching. I've known for years. I've just never come out."

_Now_ Blaine reacts, his eyes widening, honest surprise on his face. "Wait, you never… No one…"

"No. You're the first person I've ever told. You will probably _remain_ the only person who knows until I move out of this damn town." And oh, here come the tears – big, ugly sobs shaking Kurt's body, repressed for way too long. Fucking dam.

He can hear the fabric rustling and then a firm, warm hand, so different from Quinn's or any of the girls, takes his and pulls him to his feet, right into waiting arms. He doesn't protest, just falls into the embrace, tight and safe, and lets the tears flow. Blaine is a little shorter than him, but surprisingly, it doesn't make it any less wonderful to just slump against his firm, hard body, hide his face in the crook of Blaine's shoulder and let go; for the first time in what feels like forever, just let go.

Blaine is stroking his back soothingly every now and then, but he doesn't say anything – doesn't promise that it's going to be all right, or say that it's okay, doesn't even shush him. He just waits patiently, steady and sure as a rock.

Finally, the tears slow down until they stop almost completely and Kurt slowly lifts his head, but when he does… Blaine's golden eyes are just there, inches from his own; he's so close that Kurt can count the barely visible freckles on the boy's nose. And then his eyes flicker treacherously down and he's trapped – Blaine's lips, his stupid, beautifully shaped lips, red and plump, looking so soft, are just there, just… And then they are even closer and Kurt hears himself whimper, high and needy, his mind a hurricane of confusion, emotions, and _want_ like he never felt before.

He's not sure who closes the last millimeters of distance, but then they are kissing and it should not feel like something new – Kurt has shared thousands of kisses in the last two years – but somehow this is completely different. Kissing was always nice, but now – _now _– it's electricity, and thunder. It's sparks and fireworks. It's every silly cliché thing he's ever heard about kissing and never experienced. It's thrilling. It changes so much.

But then it ends and reality slams into Kurt like a concrete wall.

His eyes wide, he turns on the spot and runs out – of Blaine's room and his house, out to his car and the safety of his bedroom.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

If Kurt felt lost and confused before he ended up at Blaine's, it was nothing to what he feels now. Stretched facedown on his bed, the chaos in his head makes him dizzy. The phone buzzing every five minutes on his nightstand doesn't help, so he reaches to switch it off. The display is flashing with .-O-O-., and Kurt's stomach clenches painfully as a mixture of guilt, shame and this stupid warm feeling he gets every time he thinks of Blaine hits him full force.

It's too much – too much for one person, one day. The afternoon with Quinn and the new… _developments_; their conversation; Blaine, suddenly so different from his usual, already impossible self; Kurt's _coming out_ to him; the closeness and the kiss. _The kiss…_

Kurt's head feels like it's about to explode, so he forgoes his evening routine entirely, a thing previously unheard of, changes into his pjs, takes Advil and goes to bed. Sleep doesn't come, though, not for a long time, teasing, taunting, exhausting him with thoughts and possibilities until he wants to scream. In the morning, he does the only thing that works; the safe, known thing: he pretends.

For the next days and weeks, he works harder, pushes himself more, 120% instead of his usual 100. He works the cheerios with determination bordering on cruelty, takes on additional projects for school, practices Glee songs and dance routines for hours on end – anything to cut short any time available for thinking or socializing. He barely has time for Quinn outside of school and even if he does, it's short and in public. Strangely, she doesn't complain – another thing he doesn't want to think about.

He ignores Blaine completely – his texts that soon taper off, his worried glances when they pass each other in corridors or meet in Glee. It's like the boy doesn't exist, just a passing fly, too small for Kurt to pay attention – and soon Blaine seems to accept it and return the favor. If he smiles less and hunches a little, if there's something resigned in his eyes and less bounce in his step, Kurt definitely doesn't pay attention. Why would he? The last text says _I'm here if you ever want to talk_, and Kurt has an impulse to save it, but doesn't. He holds his head higher, keeps his words more cutting than ever and his face suitably bitchy at all times. If possible, it earns him even more respect – and loathing, from those who envy him.

No one bothers to notice – just as Kurt intends it to be – the way he hides even deeper into his shell, never revealing anything private, relevant, even while talking plenty. No one knows that when he looks at Blaine performing in Glee sometimes, open disdain in his eyes, his mind really tries to assess if he's all right, if nothing bad is happening to him – well, nothing more than usual. And absolutely not a soul suspects that when he gives in to his teenage urges sometimes, late at night, it's no longer a faceless man that appears in his fantasies, but amber eyes, plump lips and the warm, slightly rough hands of one Blaine Anderson. Every time Kurt comes desperately hard with that name like a plea on his lips, he feels more guilty.

It lasts for over five weeks. In the meantime, New Directions take Regionals by storm, at least partially thanks to the fact that Blaine at last gets a chance at a solo, and he does phenomenally. The side effect is that he seems to finally get accepted by the group after that. Kurt is glad to see him sit at the Glee table during lunch now, talking with Rachel, Tina or Mercedes, even some of the guys sometimes.

The cheerleading squad breezes through their competition too, even without using Coach Sylvester's _secret weapon _that she decided to keep under the covers until the National competition. Kurt is busy and almost content with his life again, at least when he's able to forget that Blaine exists, and how much this simple fact complicates everything. But then life stubbornly pushes the boy right into his path again and Kurt can't just walk away. He's not a monster, after all.

* * *

Kurt's walking from Glee right to cheerios practice that Friday afternoon, stopping by his locker to leave the music sheets and take out his practice bag, when he hears it, just around the corner. It's the unmistakable sound of a slushie – or rather, multiple slushies – hitting some unfortunate loser, followed by jeering and laughter from what sounds like half the football team. Kurt winces in sympathy – he still remembers the piercing cold of ice slamming into his face and the awful stinging in his eyes from middle school. The jocks' footsteps and voices already retreating, Kurt goes over to glance into the other corridor.

He recognizes the slumped form of the boy sitting on the floor against the lockers instantly, despite the multicolored ice mush covering him from head to toe.

Blaine.

Slushied again, for the second time today.

Kurt's body makes a decision before his mind even considers it, and seconds later he's back at his locker, pulling some clothes out from the back. It's not much, just a black henley and some blue jeans – after all, these are only emergency clothes he keeps in here all year for the unlikely case he needs to change out of his uniform for any reason – but at least they are dry and should be just about fitting. He puts the clothes in his bag, next to a thick, fluffy towel – thankfully it's navy, so there will be no problem with stain removal afterwards – and walks over to where Blaine still hasn't moved from the floor, ice already melting into puddles around him.

Kurt's shoes make no noise as he approaches, so he has plenty of time to notice the way Blaine's shoulders are shaking in silent sobs before the boy hears him and stiffens visibly, his face still hidden on his knees. Kurt crouches by him and touches his hand; the way Blaine flinches away from it breaks his heart.

"Blaine, hey, it's me."

Blaine's head comes up, and _ouch_, he's got the sticky, colored ice everywhere, even under his glasses. One of the idiots must have dumped the drink directly on his head. There are tear tracks clearly visible in the mess on his cheeks and Kurt feels absolutely awful. Blaine's trying to blink his eyes to look at him.

"So, Kurt, have you come to gloat? Have some fun? Your favorite nerd finally getting it bad enough to break down and cry?"

He tries to sound sarcastic, maybe bitchy, but his voice is trembling with fresh tears and Kurt can't stand it. The worst thing is that he deserves it – he doesn't gloat or laugh now, not at Blaine, but he has in the past, at many unfortunate bullying victims. It doesn't matter that he didn't see anything funny in it at all – it was just for show, just to keep up his image. And the way he's been acting towards Blaine lately… Yes, he definitely deserves the cold shoulder. He straightens up and grabs Blaine's hand, pulling him up.

"Don't open your eyes, you know this stuff is terrible when it gets in. Come on, we need to clean you up."

Kurt leads Blaine by the hand to the large handicapped bathroom, the one not many people know about so it's always clean and, most importantly, it has a lock. He can't shake the bitter thought that here he is, holding hands with a boy – a cute gay boy at that – for the first time ever, but the circumstances couldn't be further from romantic.

He sits Blaine down on the closed toilet lid, takes off his glasses and wets a washcloth that he pulled out of his bag. Tipping Blaine's face up with a gentle hand under his chin, he starts to wipe the sticky layer of ice and corn syrup from the boy's eyes first, then the rest of his face. Blaine sits quietly, unprotesting, as Kurt rinses the cloth several times to make sure all the remnants of slushie are gone. He pulls out his cosmetic bag then, and takes eye drops out.

"Okay, open your eyes and look up."

Carefully, he squeezes two drops into each of Blaine's reddened eyes, trying not to focus on the beautiful honey-colored irises or think about the fact that Blaine is putting a lot of trust in him – trust he hasn't earned.

Satisfied with his work, Kurt puts the tiny bottle away and takes out his shampoo and shower gel, passing them to Blaine along with his towel. The surprise on Blaine's face couldn't be more clear and it stings, even though Kurt knows he deserves it, so he busies himself pulling out the clothes and laying them on the counter.

"I suggest you wash the rest of the mess off yourself, then you can change into these, they should fit. I need to text Quinn that I'll be late for practice."

Not waiting for an answer, Kurt turns his back to give Blaine some privacy and takes out his phone. The practice is starting in five minutes, damn it. He pulls up a new text and types quickly; behind him, he can hear water splashing as Blaine follows his advice.

_Q, I'll be late, got stalled. Try to keep S off my back._

Seconds later, he gets a response.

_Ok, but hurry._

Satisfied that he did what he could to avoid a major fit from the Coach, Kurt pockets his phone and proceeds to watch the door. Unfortunately, there's not much to look at here – not even the usual crude rhymes and obscene drawings. He's just considering taking his phone back out and playing a round of _Fruit Ninja_ when the water stops flowing. After some rustling, he hears Blaine's voice, the timbre that makes Kurt so damn breathless sometimes.

"Kurt?"

He turns then and _oh fuck_, it was _such_ a bad idea. Blaine stands there shirtless, in Kurt's jeans that hug and accentuate his slim hips and legs in a mouthwatering way, even if they're a little bit too long. He's drying his hair with the towel, all toned muscles and smooth olive skin, and there's no way Kurt can stop staring now. One lonely drop of water slides from Blaine's clean, damp curls, down the side of his neck and then his chest, and Kurt barely bites back a moan; it's the single most erotic thing he's ever seen. He feels a pressing need to chase the drop with his tongue, but it's out of the question, obviously, so only his eyes follow it lower, lower, until his mind brakes sharply.

There's a long, thick scar curved across the right side of Blaine's abdomen. It doesn't look fresh, but not particularly old, either, and the size of it… It's huge.

"Kurt, why are you helping me?"

Kurt manages to tear his eyes from the horrifying scar and look up at Blaine's face, its expression unreadable. He shrugs, blushing.

"I couldn't have left you like this, could I?"

"So you would have helped anyone in my situation?"

This actually stops Kurt in his tracks. Would he?

"I… I don't know. Maybe. Possibly. What difference does it make, anyway?"

Blaine shrugs and reaches for the henley. The question jumps out of Kurt's mouth before he can stop it, his eyes sliding back to Blaine's stomach.

"What happened to you?"

Blaine looks down, traces the thick line with his fingers, and Kurt is suddenly wishing it could be _his_ hand instead, and biting on his lip to stop his mind from going there.

"Oh, just a friendly reminder from my first high school."

"Dalton?" Kurt's eyebrows shoot up; after all he read and heard about Dalton during their project, he was sure if was a safe place for people like Blaine. Like _both_ of them.

"No." Blaine looks up at him, still tracing the line absentmindedly. "I transferred to Dalton after this happened. I spent most of my freshman year in a public school. Let's just say that they didn't particularly like it when I came out."

"But this… It's just so…" Kurt knows that it's very impolite to be so nosy, he just can't believe his eyes. Blaine doesn't look offended.

"It's a surgical scar. Me and my friend got beaten up after a school dance, for daring to go together. He looked worse than me afterwards, so by the time I finally got to the hospital, I was lucky I pulled through. Internal bleeding, they didn't have time for finesse, so I'm left with this beauty." He shrugs and pulls on the henley. "At least I'm alive."

Kurt blinks and busies himself gathering his things to keep from bursting into tears. How could anyone do something like this to another human being? To this beautiful boy who is nothing but kind and nice, and courageous? And how in the world does Blaine manage to still be like that after what they did to him? How come he hasn't become selfish and dishonest, and cold, like…

Like Kurt.

The thought is like lightening that can't be stopped or unseen. It burns his eyes and hurts his heart; but it doesn't make it any less true. Yes, he's been bullied. But he's never had it half as bad as Blaine did, and yet it was enough for him to give up on being himself; to hide and pretend, taking the easy way. It's not a sin, it's what he felt was right at that time, but now… now Kurt wishes he didn't, that he had as much strength as Blaine.

His things already gathered and packed, his face under control, Kurt dares to look back at Blaine who is cleaning his glasses under the tap. He tries to assume his usual, confident tone, to find something neutral to talk about.

"You look good. Simple style suits you and you should wear black more often. And the curls… I like them."

So much for neutral. Kurt knows he's rambling to cover his momentary lack of control, but it's all true. Blaine does look really good like this, his broader frame filling the shirt in a way that makes Kurt want to reach and run his hand down Blaine's chest. His curls are messy, but with the tiniest amount of mousse or gel Kurt could make them look perfect. And he had listened to Kurt's advice about glasses, never wearing the huge monstrosities anymore.

He catches himself and blushes hard, but Blaine seems not to have noticed anything, busy staring at Kurt, looking suddenly unsure.

"You really think so?"

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't."

"No one… no one has ever said anything like that to me. Thank you."

Kurt shrugs awkwardly, blushing again.

"Well, it's true, so… Anyway, I have to run or coach will skin me. Take care, Blaine."

He's halfway out the door when Blaine calls out.

"Kurt?" He turns to looks back, his breath bated; what will he say? "Thank you."

Kurt smiles.

"Don't mention it."

Running towards the gym, he wonders if Blaine will take it literally.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

It's Saturday morning and the house is pleasantly quiet. Kurt's dad is away for the day, visiting an old friend in Columbus. Kurt is lounging around the house, dressed to kill just for the pleasure of wearing something other than the Cheerio uniform, enjoying the soft music seeping from the speakers in the living room. It's a surprise therefore when the doorbell rings right before ten, and an even greater one when Kurt opens the door and sees who is standing there.

"Hi. Oh wow, you look great! I'm sorry to disturb you on a Saturday, but I just wanted to give these back."

Blaine's hair is almost entirely free of gel today, curling softly around his face, and his eyes are bright and honey-colored in the morning sun. Kurt is so busy staring that he nearly misses Blaine holding something out to him, stacked neatly on his forearm – his clothes and towel from yesterday, clean and fresh smelling.

"And to thank you," suddenly shy, Blaine takes his other hand from behind his back and lays a small silver bag with the familiar logo on top of the stack. It's from the Belgian chocolate shop that sells the dark chocolate coffee beans that Kurt can't resist. "I've noticed you like these."

Kurt's surprised – true, he has a little glass bowl of them on his shelf, even though he doesn't let himself indulge in them often, but he never thought Blaine would notice such a detail during his only visit there. He shakes his head now.

"Blaine, you don't have to give me anything just because I helped you in need."

"I know. But I want to."

Kurt feels himself blush, hard.

"Thank you. Will you come in? I've just baked oatmeal muffins."

"Sorry, but no." And before Kurt finishes the thought that he must have screwed everything up those last weeks, Blaine adds. "Not today, I'm running some errands for my mom right now."

"Come over tomorrow." It's too fast, too eager, but Kurt doesn't care. He wants this boy in his life and he's done pretending he doesn't.

Blaine smiles. "Same time?"

"Perfect. Make sure you can stay longer. Um, for lunch?"

It's just an invitation to hang out and share a meal, but as Blaine's car disappears around the corner, Kurt can't shake a feeling that he'd just extended some sort of a tentative bridge between them – not just for Blaine, but for himself as well. Who knows where it will lead them.

He shakes his head, mutters _Nonsense_ and goes to take the muffins out of the oven.

* * *

By the time Blaine comes over on Sunday, Kurt's had enough time to think, overanalyze, freak out, and finally settle on the decision to just be himself with him. It's not like he can keep up his official school image when Blaine already knows the most important part of the lie, and holding on to parts of it doesn't make sense. Full disclosure then; and he hopes Blaine won't run away screaming.

He doesn't, it turns out the next morning. And by the time he leaves hours later, Kurt knows he's in deep trouble. Heart trouble, to be exact. Because Blaine is too perfect to exist. And while Kurt has known for months that he'd want to have a friend in him, and in the last weeks has also come to admit that he is strongly attracted to Blaine, this is new. The realization that he may be feeling _more _than that – that he seems to be actually falling in _love_ – is shocking and terrifying enough to push it away and bury it deep in the back of his mind. It's just excitement at the novelty, slight infatuation at most. No one could resist feeling like this after this morning, right?

Blaine came right on time with a plate of still warm brownies his mom baked, and made Kurt's dad like him on the spot with some sort of natural charm that Kurt watched with wide eyes. Then he proceeded to astound Kurt when they retreated down to his room and spent two hours discussing music and fashion, Broadway musicals and social issues, books and whatever else came to mind, never running out of topics. They didn't talk about anything personal, carefully skirting along this line, just getting to know each other, but it was enough for Kurt to feel like his imaginary best friend suddenly came to life.

And then it was time for lunch and over the Caesar salad Kurt had prepared earlier, Blaine gave him the final shock. They were sitting with Kurt's dad, just chatting about school, when the unavoidable question came.

"So you transferred from an all-boy school, eh? I bet it's a nice change, dating girls from the same school."

And Blaine smiled serenely and said, like it was the most ordinary thing, "I wouldn't know, sir, I'm gay."

Kurt's heart stuttered and the piece of chicken he was swallowing threatened to choke him before he forced it down. But then Burt Hummel – the very picture of masculine with his flannel shirts and his cap, his love of football and fast food – nodded, smiled back and said without losing a beat.

"Oh, okay. Must not be easy in this town."

Blaine shrugged.

"It's not. But I manage."

Kurt felt like his whole world was swaying and shifting; his head spinning. He couldn't count how many times he'd thought about this, wondered how his dad would react if Kurt told him, shared the weight of this secret with someone at last. But every single time, he'd stopped himself, terrified. It wasn't like he had any reason to believe that his dad would reject or stop loving him, but he just couldn't bring himself to do this one huge step. Not yet.

And here Blaine came and with one sentence proved to him that there was nothing to be afraid of.

Now, hours later, Kurt's head is still spinning as he lies in bed and replays the morning over and over, Blaine's parting words teasing and challenging him.

"I had a great time today, Kurt. But I want you to know that I understand if we go right back to the way it was before, and that I won't mind; you have your reputation to withhold and I know it. Don't feel bad about it, okay?"

Kurt was so stunned that he said nothing, lost for words. But now words are crowding his thoughts and making his head hurt. He experienced something new today, something he never hoped to have before he was in college, far away from Lima, Ohio. He got to try what it feels like to spend your time with someone who understands and accepts you the way you really are, who likes many of the same things you do and introduces you to new ones you get to enjoy. Someone smart and funny, kind and brave; someone you'd love to be able to talk to every day and call a friend.

Being able to lower his defenses, forget his image and facades for just a bit and be himself was such a powerful feeling that Kurt still shakes with the intensity of it. He craves to feel it again, and again, to be allowed to feel this freedom forever – the one that felt like a too-tight corset being untied, like spring air and flying out of a cage. He can't remember being this open in front of anyone for years – not since he first realized what he was and what it meant for him and his family. But now that Kurt got a taste of this glorious release, there's no way he can shut the door of his cage tight again. He has to leave at least a small opening, needs the source of this freedom in his life. It's just a tiny step, and he's not sure if he'll be able to make more than one before he's out of high school, but it's something.

After second period, when Kurt sees Blaine for the first time that day, approaching from the opposite direction, he doesn't divert his gaze. Instead, he smiles and says _hi_, as if it was a normal thing he did every day. The grin that Blaine sends him as he answers feels like a pat on the shoulder, and Kurt's day is suddenly a whole lot brighter. He can do this.


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

The beginnings of what Kurt would very much want to become friendship one day are tense and awkward. He's not exactly sure what he could do to signal his eagerness to meet Blaine outside of school again, without sounding too desperate. He's never done any of this before; never really had a close friend.

But the truth is, Kurt _is_ getting sort of desperate. Getting a taste of what it feels like to let himself open up to someone – and be accepted without reservation – brings to his attention the dull ache of keeping himself guarded so closely all the time. He _needs_ this outlet now, at least every now and then, to stretch his cramped muscles. He needs Blaine to make his pretend life bearable until he can burst free from this prison of a town, into the sunshine of somewhere better.

Without much hope, he waits for Blaine to make a move, but frankly, he knows it's his turn. With what Blaine told him before he left on Sunday, Kurt knows he wouldn't push. So when Thursday afternoon rolls by with nothing more than quick smiles and greetings as they pass each other in the hallway, Kurt decides to man up and do something.

The way his hand trembles as he picks the number on his phone doesn't look very manly, but whatever, Blaine can't see him anyway. Except his voice doesn't seem to have gotten the memo either and his "Hi!" comes out as a squeak he hasn't heard himself make for a long time.

_Shit. _What are the chances that Blaine will believe Kurt has a sister or a little cousin who was just playing with his phone?

But before he has time to freak out too much, Blaine's voice reaches his ear, warm and enthusiastic, and he remembers to breathe properly.

"Kurt, hi! Can you believe I was actually thinking about you right now?"

"You… you were?" _Oh great, not only a prepubescent girl, but star-struck too._

"Yeah! I was wondering if you wouldn't mind me calling. I've been slaving over my French homework for two hours now and I'm _still_ not sure I got it right, and you said French was your favorite subject, and – I guess I wanted to ask if you could drop by and help me with this damn language." Kurt grins broadly as Blaine's ramble picks up again, slightly frantic. "I mean, I don't want to force you to spend time with me or anything, just – " He starts to sound more and more anxious, so Kurt cuts in quickly.

"Sure I can help you. I'm on my way."

There's a relieved exhale. "Okay. Thanks. See you in a moment."

Kurt doesn't bother to look for his French notes, he just grabs the whole bag and almost runs to his car, elated.

* * *

Blaine is a quick learner, so after clarifying one grammar problem that he got wrong, Kurt can sit back and watch him breeze through the rest of their homework. After a while he cracks open his Calculus book to work on his own homework, since his French had been completed in class already. When he says that he's the best student there, it's not just empty words, after all.

Soon he's so engrossed in Calculus problems that it's only when he hears a loud yawn that Kurt remembers he's not alone. Startled, he jumps up in his chair, but Blaine's smile puts him at ease.

"What would you say for a break? Coffee, maybe? My brain is a half-asleep mush right now."

This is when Kurt realizes that over an hour has passed. Blaine had completed his French and began to work in something else.

The kitchen is empty tonight – in fact, the whole house is quiet – so they drink their coffee by the table there, chatting about light, unimportant things, before going back to their books. The silence is only broken every now and then when they compare answers or bounce opinions about the assigned reading for their English class. It feels surprisingly good, to just sit next to each other, working on their homework. It's peaceful and motivating at the same time, and soon they are both done, and it's time for Kurt to go.

He's been fighting with himself, afraid to sound too clingy, but as they say their goodbyes by the door, he can't keep it in any longer.

"Can we do it again?" he blurts, just as Blaine begins with a bit of hesitation,

"Do you think we could –"

They laugh, and just like that, all the awkwardness is gone. Blaine gestures to Kurt to speak first, and it's much easier now.

"I liked that. Studying with you. We could maybe… meet again, do our weekend homework together? At my place?"

Blaine nods eagerly. "I'd love that."

* * *

The study sessions become their regular thing almost instantly. After the third one they stop asking if the other wants to meet again, and simply set up the next date. It's not every day, there are families and a girlfriend and _life_ in general, after all, but they end up meeting three or four afternoons a week. They do their homework and study for tests, and afterwards they always drink coffee and talk. After a few weeks they even start staying at each other's homes for dinner sometimes.

Their conversations are neutral at first, guarded and light as they carefully settle into this new thing between them. Well, at least Kurt is careful and hesitant; Blaine seems to have a much easier time with it, though he keeps Kurt's pace. But it's barely a week before they start slipping into personal territory more and more often, learning about each other's tastes and memories and dreams, exchanging views and thoughts without fear of judgment. Because there isn't any, they quickly learn.

Soon, Kurt feels like there's no need for secrets between them; the easy comfort and instant understanding creates a safe zone when he's with Blaine, and it feels wonderful. They talk about their past school experiences – Kurt about his middle school, Blaine about his first high school, his coming out and the disastrous Sadie Hawkins dance. It makes Kurt bite his lip, swallowing tears, and want to just hug him.

Then there's a conversation about the moment each of them realized they were gay, and their reactions and fears after that. The natural next subject, two days later, is families. Kurt learns that Blaine's mom never had any problem with his sexuality, while his father still avoids the topic – more because of awkwardness than lack of acceptance, probably. Kurt in turn tells Blaine about losing his mom and how hard it is sometimes to be just with his dad, no matter how much they love and care for each other.

Before he knows it, Kurt's spilling his fears of the reaction he'd receive from everyone around if he came out – a long, rambling monologue to which Blaine listens patiently. Just talking about it aloud helps clear it all out in Kurt's head. He realizes that it's his dad's reaction he fears most – this and the way the truth would influence their everyday life, his dad's garage and all this. He's not even seriously considering revealing who he is at school, so thinking about it is quite abstract, but he'd really like to be honest with his father. Except he's not sure he could survive if his dad rejected him because of who he is.

Which he almost certainly wouldn't. But it's so much easier to believe when Blaine says it with utter conviction than when Kurt tried to tell himself the same. And frankly, if Kurt thinks about it without the ripples of anxiety distorting the image, the way Burt treats Blaine should be proof enough. He obviously likes Kurt's new friend a lot. He always insists for him to call him Burt (which Blaine always seems to forget by the next time), chats with him at every occasion, even goes so far as inviting Blaine for their traditional Friday family dinner, which makes Kurt's jaw drop in shock.

* * *

Slowly but surely, their new friendship starts to leak into their time at school, too. By mid-April Kurt has trouble keeping his facades up in Blaine's presence. It's most obvious in Glee. It's impossible not to raise suspicions, even while sitting apart; there are plenty of little things that give them away: a grin too wide to be casual, a look of mutual understanding, a fit of chuckles at the same time due to some inside joke. Santana is already watching them with hawk eyes, looking for any further slip, but it's Quinn who finally asks the unavoidable question.

"So you're friends with Anderson now?"

Kurt's been quietly dreading this moment for the last week or two. He's had noticeably less time for her since he started meeting with Blaine on a regular basis, they haven't even made out lately, not to mention any further developments, but she's been surprisingly fine with it so far. Better than fine, in fact – she's been _really_ chipper. Kurt thought it may have been the spring, finally coming in earnest and filling every day with sun and the fresh green of sprouting leaves. But it seems his luck has finally run out one Friday morning when Quinn asks about Blaine.

Kurt isn't sure what they are, they've never named it – he feels like Blaine's the best friend he's ever had, but does Blaine think so too? He shrugs, feigning lack of interest and choosing his words carefully. They may be a couple, but if crossed, Quinn would make a formidable enemy.

"Blaine? I don't know if I'd say so much. We talk sometimes." He looks at her to weigh her reaction. "He's not bad, you know? It's nice to have an intelligent discussion with someone other than you sometimes. Just, don't tell the girls. I had enough teasing about him molesting me when we were working on that project together."

Quinn nods. With a _smile_, which Kurt doesn't understand. He expected her to remind him how much of a loser Blaine was, scold him for neglecting her and their duties as The Popular Couple. She wanted them to discuss their campaign for Prom King and Queen weeks ago and finally did the posters herself. Kurt expected hell for that. Yet – nothing, just a smile.

"I know, they are so silly sometimes. It's not like you can catch gay, after all. I won't tell, though I could drop a hint here and there that we're both cool with Blaine. It may ease things up for him a little." Kurt's face must be a picture of surprise, because she shrugs. "What? I have nothing against him, personally. So he likes to learn – well, so do I. He's nice, easy on the eyes and he sings really well. And so what if he's gay? Some people are."

She smiles and turns to join the girls in front of the classroom, leaving Kurt with his mouth slightly open. He's always assumed Quinn had the same narrow-minded opinions about sexuality that her parents and most of people in this school do, but now that he thinks of it, he can't remember ever hearing a single sexually-based insult falling from her lips. Huh. Interesting what you can still learn about your girlfriend after two years of relationship.

Not to mention, what got into her? She could be a queen bitch sometimes, but lately she's seemed like she was dipped in honey, all happy and sweet.

He has to admit that her offer to influence the cheerleaders' attitude towards Blaine (and thereby indirectly, the jocks', too) made him want to hug her really, really tight. Because this has been one of the hardest things in the past month he's been getting closer to Blaine. Not everyone notices what Kurt does now – that Blaine not only isn't a loser, but is in fact one of the most interesting, sweet people he's ever known. And as much as he'd love to make them see it, he can't do anything directly. Blaine's still being pushed and laughed at and slushied almost daily, and all Kurt can do is try to distract the attackers whenever he has a chance. He's been feeling terribly guilty about it for weeks now, no matter how many times Blaine told him it wasn't his fault. Hopefully Quinn, of all people, will help.

But the more Kurt thinks about it, the more determined he is to do something more. People like Blaine, like so many others, shouldn't have to be afraid to come to school every day. After a weekend of considering all the options and scouting the internet for inspiration, he slips into Coach Sylvester's office on Monday morning, a thick folder clutched in his hand.

It may not help, but he needs to try.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

At first Kurt thinks that it's just his imagination, but then two weeks later someone comments on it out loud, and it turns out that everyone's noticed how many teachers there seem to be in the halls in between classes, how they seem to pay attention during lunch and recess. Someone saw Miss Pilsbury and Mr. Schue conferring with other teachers in the counselor's office, someone else heard about a shouting match between Principal Figgins and Coach Sylvester – which wouldn't be that weird in itself but Coach Beiste was there, too, apparently on Sue's side for once. All in all, it feels like something big is coming, but no one knows what it can be.

The mystery is solved whenan assembly is announced after lunch break next Monday. When everyone has finally gathered in the gym, it's both coaches that stand in front of them by the microphone, a stiff-looking Principal Figgins behind them, pretending to be in control.

Coach Sylvester takes a place at the microphone and begins bluntly.

"You all probably wonder why you are gathered here today. I'll tell you why, but first, let me give you some statistics." She doesn't have any notes, shoots out the numbers from memory. "One out of every four teenagers is bullied, one out of five admits to bullying others. Most of you have probably experienced or witnessed bullying here at school, or cyberbullying while online. Many of you may be afraid to go to school on any given day because of being bullied; some of you may feel anxious or depressed, or have even thought about taking your life at some point because of bullying, either at school or on the internet."

Kurt feels his heart pick up speed – so his suggestions had been taken into consideration. He only hopes that it won't end with just an assembly. Mere words are never enough; he looks around to see the main perpetrators sitting there with bored expressions, playing with their phones or talking quietly. Karofsky seems to be napping, Azimio is very busy trying to place a wad of gum as deep as possible in a thin, bespectacled girl's hair without her noticing. Coach Sylvester continues with her speech.

"It's been brought to my attention that the problem of bullying at McKinley is pretty bad, and I was asked to consider taking action to change it. And let me tell you, I'm glad someone made me see the expanse of the problem." Her eyes flicker to the group of cheerios up front, and Kurt can feel her eyes on him for a second. "This past week all of us teachers took care to look for signs of bullying on school grounds. The school network administrator was also asked to go through school computers to check for any proof of cyberbullying. I suspect we haven't seen half of it, because of increased teacher presence in the hallways, but what we saw, heard and read was more than enough."

There are whispers around now, and some worried glances among the football and hockey teams. Not without a reason, Kurt knows. In the last week Blaine alone was slushied twice, and when he logged into his facebook once when they were done with their homework, Kurt saw several notes with slurs and hateful words that made his blood boil. Blaine just deleted them calmly, explaining that he gets them all the time.

And there are dozens more like him.

"This ends today." Couch Sylvester's firm tone jolts Kurt back to the present. "We are here to tell you that starting now, we are introducing a new strict anti-bullying policy here at McKinley. One that you really don't want to go against."

The voices are more audible now, some excited, some annoyed, a few sarcastic, and Kurt grips the edge of the bench beside him with white-knuckled fingers as he listens.

"I won't go into all the details now – they will be explained during the obligatory anti-bullying classes that you will all have this week. You will learn how to prevent bullying and react to it, what to report and to whom, and you will be made to see and recognize what bullying is and what it can cause. Right now, you just need to know the basic rules and consequences of not following them, which Coach Beiste will explain to you. This school is going to become free from all forms of abuse – verbal, physical, psychological, virtual. All of it. It will _not_ be accepted. That meansthe teachers as well – including me." She stares at them hard. "I have been a bully, and I recognize that. Today, I apologize to all of you whom I may have offended, and I promise to stop. Coach Beiste, the floor is yours"

The heavy-set football coach approaches the microphone now. Kurt knows that she can be kind and nice, but now, all she looks is hard and fierce.

"Okay guys, the rules are simple: any case of bullying will be immediately punished. No warnings or slaps on the hand either. It's suspension, plain and simple, and it will be put on your permanent record. Any threats, harassment or hate crimes will be reported to the police who are happy to be working with us on this system. And because we're well aware that most of the bullies are either on the sports or cheerleading teams, I want it to be clear that even _one_ incident gets you off the team, permanently and without a second chance." This causes gasps and outraged exclamations among the jocks – so she raises her voice and the commotion stops. "Sport is not just about talent and practice – it's about fair play and setting an example, too. If you are a bully, you don't deserve to be called a sportsman. School is supposed to be a safe place, let's all make an effort to make it so. Thank you."

* * *

Things aren't perfect in a day, of course. First, there are lessons and class discussions and handouts with rules and statistics, there's roleplaying and videos and testimonials (many of which Kurt recognizes as coming from the website he focused on in his research and suggestions – the _Stomp out Bullying_ program). There's frustration visible on many faces, and relief on even more; there's initial fear to report things. But technology helps, and after the hockey team gets new members when two notorious bullies are suspended, everyone starts to get the idea. They becomeused to the fact that a picture or a recording, or even just a statement is the right reaction to incidents. Within two short weeks, McKinley feels like a new school.

A safe one. It will probably take a while before Glee kids stop keeping spare clothes in their lockers, but it's a beginning.

Kurt knows Coach Sylvester isn't all that selfless introducing the program – neither was he suggesting it in the first place. She told him herself that she has her reasons, political ones – but it doesn't matter. What matters is that change is being made, and what may be just strategy for her, for dozens of kids in this school is a life-changing miracle.


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

It's Quinn who's the cause of the first argument between Kurt and Blaine.

It starts with an innocent question Kurt asks as they enjoy their usual cup of coffee at the Andersons' kitchen table. They've just finished their preparations for the history quiz they have the next day.

"So have you ever had a boyfriend?"

Blaine looks up at him with that lopsided little smile that always stirs something in Kurt's chest.

"No, not really. I went out with a few boys while at Dalton, but none of them were what I wanted, so it never went beyond a couple of dates and a kiss or two. I'm sure I could have had more, with one of them for sure – he was quite clear that he was interested and, um… experienced. But I felt nothing special for any of them, so it just didn't seem right, you know? I don't want my first boyfriend to be someone that just happened to be there and interested, someone I don't lo- _um_, feel anything for." Blaine blushes a little, his eyes darting to the side for a moment before he clears his throat and asks. "What about you? I know you haven't had boyfriends, how about girls?"

Kurt shakes his head, feeling himself color too. It's as personal as they'd ever gotten – talking about feelings. Opening up like this is something new for him, something he's never done except when he's writing in his journal.

"No, Quinn is the first one." He shrugs. "Most likely the only one, too."

Blaine frowns a little, just a slight knitting of his eyebrows that Kurt wouldn't have even noticed if he hadn't spent so much time looking at his face lately that he knows every line and dimple, and every tiny frown or smile.

"What?" Blaine just shakes his head without a word, but Kurt isn't going to let go. "Blaine. Tell me."

There's an apologetic expression on Blaine's face as he finally speaks.

"Just… don't you think you deserve more? That _Quinn_ deserves more?"

"More?" Kurt can feel his defenses snap back into place, a long nourished instinct. He knows it shows by the way Blaine tenses, clearly sorry he spoke at all. "No, don't you try to stop now. What do you mean, _more_?"

Blaine seems to be looking for the right words, but eventually he shrugs, his face set in a determined look.

"Something real and honest, something beautiful? I mean, do you love her? Are either of you truly happy in this relationship? You say you just want to survive high school and then you're off to greener pastures, and I get it, it's your life and your choice – but have you ever thought how Quinn's going to feel when she learns, sooner or later, that you're gay? That for her first long-term boyfriend, she was just a beard?"

Blaine's words punch into Kurt, deftly targeting all the most vulnerable spots his shields leave open. He doesn't tell Blaine how many times he's tried to push the same concerns deep to the back of his mind. Instead, he shoots up from the chair and starts pacing the kitchen, anger quickly substituting other, less welcome emotions.

"That's between me and Quinn, don't you think?" he snaps, sharper than he intended, but not sorry about it. He's on a roll now. "You know nothing about the relationship we have, Blaine, _nothing_. We may not be the love of each other's lives, or end up married one day, but we're good together."

"You're living a lie." Blaine's voice is quiet, his jaw set.

"So what if I am?" he's almost yelling now. "This is the way I chose, Blaine, and I'm _glad_ I did. I'm not slushied or called names, or thrown into dumpsters. I'm liked and popular. For almost three years now, I haven't been scared to go to school every day. And Quinn… she knows it's not… that I don't… don't love her. That it's just a high school romance."

"Are you sure about that? Have you actually asked her?" And damn, these honest, amber eyes, this voice, so calm… it's breaking Kurt. He grabs his bag from where he left it just outside the kitchen entrance.

"I better go. Bye, Blaine."

He doesn't wait for an answer, doesn't look back as he walks briskly out the door and towards his car. It's raining outside, distant thunder rumbling through the darkening sky. Mrs. Anderson is just getting out of her car and stops, surprised, when she sees Kurt.

"Kurt, hi, I thought you'd be staying for dinner tonight?"

He takes a deep breath, trying not to sound or look angry – it's enough that he's just ruined his relationship with her son, he doesn't want to make her hate him, too.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Anderson, I have to go. Have a good evening!"

The rain is falling harder with every mile he drives until it's a true downpour preventing Kurt from seeing anything beyond two feet in front of his car. Fortunately, it's just a ten minute drive so he gets home safe, but the short run between his car and the front door is enough to get him drenched and in an even worse mood. There's no dinner ready, since he was supposed to stay at Blaine's and his dad has a date, so Kurt grabs an apple and slumps down the stairs to his room to strip off his wet clothes and take a hot shower.

By the time he's back in his bedroom with his pajamas on, munching on the apple, there are three unanswered call alerts on his phone, all from Blaine. Feeling vindictive, Kurt switches off the phone and settles in bed with a book. Two hours later, he has no idea what he's been reading about and his anger is gone, leaving space for regret, guilt and misery.

He screwed up. He couldn't take the truth and now he lost the only person who could truly understand him in all this mess . He feels like crying.

So he does, switching his light off first, so that his dad would think he's asleep when he's back from his date. Kurt curls into his duvet in a fetal position and lets the tears flow.

* * *

He must have fallen asleep at some point because when he opens his eyes, it's well after midnight. Kurt's mind flashes back to the events of the evening and he feels his throat constrict in grief again. He should have known he would suck at this friendship thing. No one can take him the way he truly is – bitchy and mean and just –

A quiet tapping sound from the window interrupts his thoughts. It's still raining hard outside, but it's not the rain tapping, it's almost like… knocking. Carefully, Kurt gets out from under the covers and passes to the window to peek behind the curtain. There's his dad's car on the driveway and their front yard is drowning in mud, but what pulls Kurt's focus immediately is the dark figure crouching right outside his window. Before he can scream or do anything even less dignified, the person notices the flutter of the curtain and switches on a torch that they direct at their face, revealing –

Blaine.

A very real, very _wet _Blaine Anderson, crouching just outside Kurt's bedroom window and gesturing for him to come outside.

Into the rain. Is he crazy?

Apparently they both are, because no more than a minute later Kurt is out there, in his raincoat over the PJs, his wellington boots and with an umbrella, and Blaine is grabbing his hand with an earnest expression, speaking over rain and thunder.

"Kurt, I'm _sorry_. I should never have said any of this, of _course_ it's your life and your choices. I have no right to tell you what to do. I just… I really _care_ about you, Kurt, and I want to see you happy. But I was out of line and I'm sorry, and I promise I will never push you like that again. You're the best friend I've ever had and I really don't want to screw this up. Do you think we could try to forget about this evening?"

There's so much pleading and – is that fear? – in Blaine's face that even if Kurt was angry at him, he'd have to cave. As it is, he just throws himself at his friend to hug him, narrowly avoiding decapitating him with the umbrella in the process.

"Of course, silly. It's me who should be sorry. You were right, you know, and that's why I snapped. I know all this, I think about it too, but I'm not ready and – Just not yet, Blaine. But you're right, and you're my best friend too, and please don't stop talking to me even though I'm a bitch sometimes."

The force with which Blaine returns the hug steals most of the air out of Kurt's lungs, and it's the best feeling ever, despite the night and the rain, and the mud under their shoes, which –

"Blaine, for god's sake, you're completely soaked!"

"Well, I couldn't take a car without waking up my parents, so I walked here." There's a sheepish expression on Blaine's face, even as his teeth start chattering.

"Without an umbrella or a raincoat or anything? And in your _tennis shoes_?Why are you here _now_, anyway? You could have waited until morning!"

"I couldn't sleep, knowing that I hurt you, and you didn't pick up your phone, so I had to come apologize or I'd be a wreck by morning. I'll go now. But… are we good?"

Kurt shakes his head incredulously. "_We_ are perfectly fine, but _you_ are going to catch pneumonia if you stay out here any longer. Come on, we have to get you into dry clothes and warmed up."

Blaine doesn't even protest too much, too busy shivering all over as Kurt pulls him by the hand into the dark house and downstairs to his room. He leads the wet mess of his friend – _friend_, he can say it now – right into his bathroom and gives him a towel.

"Okay, I'll find you some clothes and make you cocoa while you take a hot shower. I can lend you my raincoat and the umbrella, but my boots won't fit, your feet are bigger than mine. And I can't drive you home without waking my dad, either. Unless –" Kurt's not sure if the idea is genius or crazy, so he spits it out before he can talk himself out of it. "Would your parents notice if you didn't come home until morning?"

Blaine rubs the towel through his dripping curls, thoughtful. "Probably not, they both leave for work before I get up. Why?"

"You could stay here and I'd drive you home before school so that you could change and take your bag. This way you wouldn't have to get wet again. And my bed is wide enough for us both to sleep comfortably."

Kurt knows he's blushing hard at this point, the mere thought of sharing a bed – even platonically – with another boy, and _Blaine_ in particular, making his insides twist in a not entirely uncomfortable way. Blaine's eyes widen almost comically.

"I… you… what about your dad?"

"He has an early morning at the garage tomorrow, doing the books. I'll only see him when I drop by with his lunch on my way to school." He feels just a tiny twinge of guilt for hiding this from his father, but he's got years of practice at suppressing those feelings. He focuses on Blaine's stunned face instead. "And I don't mind, so if you want to, this may be the best solution. To, you know, prevent you from getting sick."

Blaine smiles at last, though amazement still shines in his eyes. "In that case… okay. Thank you, Kurt."

Kurt nods with a grin and ducks to his closet to take out some rarely used sweatpants and a simple T-shirt. With his cheeks burning, he adds a pair of black boxer briefs and takes the small stack to the bathroom where Blaine is just taking off his soaked shirt.

"Here. You can sleep in these, and I'll find you something else in the morning."

Not waiting for an answer, Kurt turns away from his (_gorgeous, half-naked, oh my god Kurt get a grip_) friend and flees up to the kitchen, where he takes his time, slowly and meticulously making them both cocoa with marshmallows and determinedly _not_ thinking about the naked boy in his shower. He only returns downstairs five minutes after he hears the water turn off.

Blaine's there, dry except for his hair, his broad shoulders making the T-shirt cling to his chest. He looks fresh and smells of Kurt's body wash, and _damn_, why is it such a turn on? Why is Kurt suddenly changing into a raging hormonal sex maniac and can't stop reacting like this? It's never been an issue before!

They sip their cocoa and talk for a bit until they're both yawning widely, and there's no way to avoid it much longer. Kurt finds a new, spare toothbrush for Blaine and they brush their teeth standing by the sink together, which feels weirdly intimate for some reason, and then it's time to go to bed.

It's not bad, despite Kurt's fears. They each settle comfortably enough on opposite edges and before Kurt can overanalyze and freak out properly, he's out.

In the morning, Blaine's still on his half of the bed. Kurt, however, not used to restricted space while sleeping – yes, of _course _it's the only reason – wakes up to find himself cuddled into a firm, cotton-clad chest, his head resting on Blaine's shoulder and his arm embracing his trim waist.

He jerks away immediately, praying for Blaine to stay asleep just a bit longer and pushing the thoughts about how amazing it felt away, to revisit at a later time. He'll have a hard enough time getting back into his school persona as is.

Everything goes swimmingly after that. Blaine wakes up five minutes after Kurt leaves the bathroom and accepts the clothes Kurt finds for him. They eat a quick breakfast, grab their coffee to go and are on their way. Blaine ends up going to school in Kurt's clothes because there's no time for him to change. It gives Kurt another bout of strange feelings, which _must_ be somehow connected to the fact that someone else gets to wear his clothes (and look damn good in them, too).

Their friendship is fine, and Kurt is so happy about it that he feels like singing and dancing and fixing everything that's wrong in the world, so he starts close to home. He may not be ready for changes yet, but Blaine's right, Quinn deserves more than he's been giving her lately. So that evening, after Cheerio practice, he goes with her to her house, where they stay together until Kurt's curfew.

Next morning, Quinn's smile is more dazzling than ever.


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

The next two weeks are dominated by junior prom preparations and campaigning. Quinn is all excited about it while Kurt is stoically playing his role by her side. He doesn't much care for the title, but he knows it's part of the image. So they spend almost all of their time at school together, and they must seem closer than ever, because Kurt hears gossip about them finally having sex or maybe exchanging promises or _something_ big.

It turns out the Glee club is providing music for the prom, so most rehearsals focus on these performances for the time being. Kurt has no intention to perform, so he has some more free time in the afternoons. Or he could have it, if not for the schedule of double practices Coach Sylvester decided were in order in preparation for their National Cheerleading competition. So between the two of them, Kurt and Blaine don't really have much time for their usual study sessions.

Not that it stops them from trying. But when Kurt dozes off over his books for the second time in a week, exhausted after hours of strenuous practice, it's pretty clear homework is not a good excuse for them to meet right now.

Although they don't really need an excuse anymore. After that night and admitting that they both consider each other to be best friends, it's much easier to pick up the phone to chat about anything without feigning a reason. So the next time Kurt wants to see Blaine after school, he just calls him to ask if they can meet at a coffee house on the outskirts of Lima.

It's only after Blaine accepts, surprise in his voice, that Kurt realizes that it's the first time he offered to meet him anywhere in public. True, the coffee shop is not really frequented by students from their school (who prefer the more trendy Lima Bean), but there's still a chance that they'll be seen together by someone they know.

And Kurt doesn't care.

Which is new and liberating. He's let others choose the direction in his life for way too long. If he wants to be friends with Blaine or anyone else, he will. He's probably popular enough to swing it without a lot of repercussions anyway, especially now that the new rules are being enforced.

As promised, Blaine doesn't touch the topic of Quinn anymore, or any other choices Kurt makes, for that matter. Their conversation is easy and flowing again, fueled by caffeine and the exhilaration of meeting outside their homes. Until Kurt asks,

"So what are you wearing to prom?"

Blaine's smile melts off his face and he shrugs. "Just a simple suit, black and discreet. But I'm only going for an hour, to sing my parts. Then I'm off."

Kurt looks at him incredulously. "But Blaine, it's _prom_. The social event of the season! You can't skip it!"

"Yes, I can. I'm not exactly a fan of school dances, remember?" Kurt bites his lip. Damn, right, Sadie Hawkins. Blaine continues. "Besides, I have no one to go with anyway, even if I wanted to, and going stag is just sad."

"But Blaine, I bet there are plenty of girls who'd love to –"

"Kurt. _Girls_. I don't want to go with a girl."

"_Oh_."

"Right. Oh." A ghost of a smile flickers on Blaine's lips. "So I'm only coming to perform. It's just before the king and queen are announced, too – I'll be able to see you get coronated before I go. And don't worry on my account. I'm fine with it. As I said – not exactly comfortable with school dances."

* * *

The gym is full of colorful balloons and even more colorful dresses in all shapes and sizes that Kurt can't help but judge silently. At least half of the girls should never wear the colors or cuts they've chosen. Quinn looks perfect, of course, thanks to her own sense of style, aided a little by his discreet hint or two. Of course, Kurt himself looks impeccable. A little too classic for his liking, perhaps, he could do much better than this, and most definitely more original, but Kurt the Cheerleader wouldn't wear anything extravagant. As he was putting on the simple black tux in front of his full-length mirror earlier, he kept telling himself that one day he'll be free to wear whatever he wants – one beautiful day when he's in college, far away from Ohio, out and proud and free to be who he is. But not yet. Not here.

From the moment the prom begins, Kurt's eyes are searching for the familiar compact form and dark curls in the mass of students. All evening Kurt dances, mostly with Quinn, and they talk and socialize like good nominees should, but he's on the lookout all the time. He's not even sure when Blaine's part of the performance begins – they avoided the topic after the talk in the coffee house. And then – there he is, just a few feet from them as Kurt leads Quinn to their table, his arm wound protectively around her waist in the crowd. Blue eyes meet amber and Kurt sees the way Blaine's face falls for a second. It looks like tentative hope, gone in an instant. He can't go and talk to him, not without looking rude, and by the time he manages to excuse himself for a moment, Blaine's nowhere to be seen.

For the next fifteen minutes Kurt catches glimpses of him every now and then, either alone or with people from the Glee club. And then Blaine whirls onto the scene and kills the audience with _I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance With You_, his voice strong and amazing and his moves shamefully erotic at times.

Kurt winces at the irony of the song – here, now, coming from Blaine's lips, it reminds him painfully about their argument. And he can barely keep himself from staring; Blaine looks _good_. In a simple, perfectly fitted tux, his hair slicked back and his glasses substituted by contacts for the night, he's a picture of understated elegance. Ladies should be fainting at his feet – if they didn't know he was gay, of course. Men should be swarming around him, begging for a date or at least a dance – if they weren't in a mostly homophobic high school in Lima, Ohio.

Well, Kurt would gladly go over and beg for a dance. And a date.

_Wait, what_?

Momentarily breathless, heart beating erratically, Kurt has to go sit down for a minute, drink some punch, leaving Quinn to dance with Sam, a blond jock from Glee.

Where did that come from? Why does it feel so right?

Blaine sings a few more songs, some solo, some with others, and Kurt tries to focus on Quinn, he really does. But every time he looks at the stage – every time he hears the voice that feels like velvet and silk against his skin – there's this little jolt in his chest, as if his heart was trying to jump out of his ribcage. His insides feel funny, too. Is this what they mean when they talk about butterflies in your stomach? He'd never understood it, but now… what's going on with him?

And then Blaine leaves the stage, and Principal Figgins summons all the candidates, and Kurt finallyhas a distraction from the frightening, exhilarating chaos in his head and his heart.

They win, of course. Quinn is beaming, the plastic crown shimmering on her head. But standing on the stage, being coronated asprom king, Kurt can only focus on Blaine's back disappearing behind the gym door, just a bit too early to hear Quinn's words.

"I want to thank you, all of you – everyone who believed in us and voted for us; most of all, I want to thank my boyfriend for supporting me these last two weeks." Kurt can feel everyone's eyes on him and it's a funny feeling, knowing that a bomb is about to drop before anyone else is aware. Quinn glances at him once as she pauses, and he smiles: _here goes_. She looks away and at the blond football player standing in front of the stage. "Sam, thank you."

There's a murmur first, a flood of whispered conversations growing, filling the overheated air as Quinn stands on stage, her eyes locked with Sam Evans', and Kurt holds his head high, keeps his face neutral, smiling slightly, firmly settled in his role of theex-boyfriend. Oh, this will be grand; the gossip of the year.

Just the way they want it.

* * *

That evening at Quinn's, two weeks ago, they talked, long and honest, and it turned out Kurt was not the only one keeping secrets, at least lately.

"I thought you might be. It's okay, Kurt." He heard when the two words, so small for something so huge, were out in the open. His world shook a little. So what, that's it? He tells her he's gay and she just smiles and accepts it? No drama?

And it wasn't the end of surprises. Quinn barely let him catch his breath before she took his hand and said. "I think I'm in love, Kurt. With Sam. And… I think I want to try giving myself a chance to date him. Would you be okay with this? With us breaking up?"

He was perfectly okay with it, obviously. So they talked, and planned, and plotted. They decided to keep their breakup quiet until prom, especially since they had their campaign to think of anyway. Quinn would date Sam in secret, and Kurt would still keep appearances at school for the time being, but they'd no longer kiss or make out. It all sounded cold and calculated, like a business transaction. Well, it had been all along, in a way.

But before Kurt turned away to go home that evening, they hugged for a long while. When they pulled back, they were both a little teary-eyed.

"Thank you, Quinn. For everything I got from you." He knew his voice shook, and he didn't care. It was an end of an era. It deserved to be grieved.

"You gave me just as much." She answered softly. "So thank _you_."

She kissed him sweetly one last time, and that was it. He was single.

* * *

They dance once as king and queen, and then Quinn is off with Sam. Kurt spends the rest of the evening sitting at the table, saying again and again that he's fine, they parted as friends, and no, he doesn't need to be comforted, and he definitely doesn't want a new girlfriend. He's done with girls for now. And "_yeah, who knows, maybe he _should_ try it with boys. Good one, Santana_".

When the prom finally ends, Kurt dodges all different party invitations (a few of which are clearly of the one-on-one variety) and goes straight to his car. As soon as he closes the door behind him, he exhales deeply, letting go of the façade he kept all evening, picks up his phone and dials Blaine's number with trembling fingers.

The signal steady in his ear, Kurt waits. And waits; up until Blaine's recorded _Hi, I can't pick up the phone, leave a message_. He disconnects and tries again a minute later; the result the same. It surely doesn't mean anything though – Blaine must be in the shower, or somewhere out of his room. Or maybe his phone is on silent mode; maybe he's asleep. Before Kurt can try again though, his phone buzzes with an incoming text.

**.–O-O–.: **_Kurt, I need some time. Please don't call, I'm switching my phone off. Have a fun night. B._

Phone still in his hand, Kurt sinks down in the driver's seat. Blaine thinks he's with Quinn right now, doing what she wanted to do after prom, doesn't he? And he seems hurt. _Why _would he feel hurt? Unless… does he – is this even possible –

Kurt tries to call once more anyway, but it goes straight to voicemail – Blaine really did switch off his phone, just as he said he would. He could send a text, so that Blaine gets it whenever he turns it back on, but somehow it doesn't seem the right way to tell him about the recent developments; it's too one-sided. Kurt hoped Blaine would be there to see it himself; wanted to spend the rest of the evening after the coronation with him, maybe sneaking out to drive for coffee instead. He could use his friend's support tonight.

But before he can think about any of that, there are other things he has planned for tonight. Important things. Turning his thoughts away from Blaine and towards what he's about to do, Kurt takes a deep breath, straightens up in the seat, his chin held high, and drives home.


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

Burt Hummel is still up when his son comes home; sitting in his chair with a beer and a bowl of nachos, watching a game. He smiles widely, seeing the crown on Kurt's head, but then concern flashes through his features.

"Kurt, is everything alright? I didn't expect you until noon at least."

Kurt smiles reassuringly. Now that the time has come, he's less nervous than he thought he'd be. Hardly at all, to be honest. His dad loves him; nothing would change that. This is the one essential truth that's always been the core of Kurt's universe. He never doubted it; there's no reason to start now.

"I'm fine. I just wanted to talk to you about something."

He can see panic in his dad's eyes. "Is it about… you're not in trouble, are you? With Quinn?"

Kurt can't help snorting with sudden laughter. Of all the things… "No, dad. I'm not in trouble. But I haven't been exactly honest with you for some time now, and I don't want to hold it up any longer."

He comes up to sit on the arm of his dad's chair and Burt turns off the TV, giving him his undivided attention. "Whatever it is, son, you know that I love you. You can tell me anything."

"I know. I love you too, dad." He takes a deep breath before looking his dad straight in the eyes. "You should know that Quinn and I… we broke up. Two weeks ago. Because… because I'm gay, dad."

There's a beat of silence hanging in the air between them, heavy with possibilities and fears, and then Kurt is pulled down into his dad's strong arms, like so many times in the past, before he built all the walls around. He feels himself relax into the embrace, the tension he's been carrying around for so long gone at last. It will be alright. His dad and him, they'll be fine.

Still, it's a shock when his father murmurs into his shoulder. "I know."

Kurt pulls away rapidly. "_What_?"

"I've known since you were three, Kurt. The only thing you wanted for your birthday was a pair of sensible heels." Kurt giggles, his eyes tearing up. "When you said you had a girlfriend, and it lasted more than a few weeks, I thought I was wrong. And let me tell you, I was relieved, because your life would be so much easier like this. But somewhere deep, I knew all along. And I love you just as much."

Kurt is crying openly now, years of anxiety and the weight of his secret vanishing, leaving him feeling lighter and more free than he remembers feeling for years. It's heady and intoxicating, a pleasant buzz in his head and heart. He hugs his dad again and they stay like this for a while, savoring the moment. Because as good as it feels to be this honest and this close, they both know that this is just the first step on a rough road. No matter when Kurt comes out to the world in general, no matter where – there will always be people who will hate and despise him for that; there will be hardships most don't have to endure. And no matter how hard Kurt will try to protect his dad, some of this hatred will spill and taint him, too. They will both need a lot of strength and courage, but they can do it. They are the Hummels.

* * *

Ten minutes later they are sitting at the kitchen table, the place where they always end up for all the important conversations. A bowl of early strawberries between them, they're chatting as they slowly settle into a new situation.

"So are you going to tell people at school now?"

Kurt shakes his head. "No. I wanted to tell you and Quinn, because I'm tired of lying. And Blaine has known for some time already. The rest… I don't know. I'm not ready to be a target – even with the new policy and no actual bullying, it can get unpleasant sometimes. I've spent all of my high school life so far doing everything to avoid being bullied. And it worked – I'm popular, no one's ever dared to touch me. But so what if I can't do what I want, be who I am… I can't even admit that Blaine's my best friend. I'm tired of it."

"Is it worth it?" His dad pops a ripe strawberry into his mouth.

"I thought it was. But now… I'm not so sure. I feel like the price of safety is too high, I'm losing too much. Like… um." He feels himself blush, hesitating for a moment. But then, who else can he ask? "Dad, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"When you like someone… how do you know that you _like_ them? That it's not just, I don't know, wishful thinking, or just attraction, or something like that?" He busies himself with shredding the paper towel he just used to wipe strawberry juice off his fingers. His dad clears his throat, looking uncomfortable.

"You just know, I guess, you feel it in your gut. You want to see them as often as you can, or just hear their voice, and when you do, you get happy and excited. You can't stop thinking about them. You can imagine yourself together, in a relationship. You think of their happiness before your own. Stuff like that."

Kurt looks up, surprised – he didn't really expect such a detailed answer. "Sounds like you remember it pretty well."

"I may, um, have been reminded lately." Burt rubs his balding head self-consciously and Kurt can swear he's blushing. He squeals and bounces in his seat.

"Oh my god, dad, that's wonderful! When do I get to meet her?"

There's relief clear in his dad's eyes as he answers with a question. "You don't mind?"

"Of course not, it's been _years_, dad. You're still young, and I want you to be happy. Oh, I can't wait to meet the lucky lady!"

"You will." Kurt can see that his dad is tempted to ask more about the person he might like, but he doesn't.

And Kurt is relieved. What he feels is so fresh and so confusing that the inability to contact Blaine suddenly feels like a blessing more than a curse.

He's single. What does he do now, what does he want? The weekend feels like an awfully short time to think about all of that.

Blaine and him, they need to talk, face to face. Because the fact that Kurt is no longer with Quinn is just the beginning, the first block in a domino. It changes things. But now what? What does that mean for Kurt? Potentially – dare he say it – for both of them?


	16. Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

Blaine doesn't contact him at all that weekend, and Kurt stays silent too, as per his request. They only say _hi _when they pass each other in the hallway on Monday morning, and Blaine keeps a pleasant face, but deep in his eyes Kurt can see hurt and disappointment, as if he expected so much more from him. He understands – he'd be disappointed with himself too if he stayed with Quinn and went through with her post-prom plans. The news is all over the school by now, of course, but Blaine isn't exactly connected to McKinley's grapevine, so he probably doesn't know yet. Kurt could tell him, but he bites his lip, keeps his mouth shut and waits until Blaine learns about it himself.

He knows exactly the moment it happens. At lunch, Kurt is surrounded by the Cheerios when Blaine enters the cafeteria and freezes halfway through, his eyes – almost comically wide behind his glasses – on Quinn sitting on Sam's knees, with most of the Glee club. Five minutes and a whispered conversation with Mercedes and Tina later, Blaine glances in Kurt's direction with a tiny, apologetic smile. Smiling back, Kurt returns to his salad. They'll need to talk. But first, he has plans for Glee today.

* * *

The rest of the day is surprisingly hard to get through. Kurt is too aware of all the attention – people staring at him and whispering to each other, some smirking, some looking sorry, others hopeful – and while usually he'd be basking in it, today it leaves him feeling exposed. He's never been so close to showing his true self here, never allowed himself to lower his defenses so much. It's disconcerting, makes him anxious. So he holds his head higher, keeps his bitch face on at all times and silently dares anyone to say anything to him. His tongue is his greatest weapon and his words are always freshly sharpened.

But it's exhausting, keeping the mask on after all that happened lately, and by the time Kurt's walking to Glee practice, he just wants to be left alone. Invisible. Not adored or hated, worshipped or bullied, just… allowed to live his life, on his conditions, without anyone giving a shit about it. Is that so much?

For a moment, he hesitates about going forward with his plan today. He's just so tired of it all, stirring the pot even more isn't high on his list of desires. But then he thinks of this weekend, about what he already did, how far he'd gone and how good it felt. He wants this. And he knows that if he doesn't do it today, when he's on a roll, it will be harder with every passing day to find that kind of courage again.

He's one of the last to arrive in the choir room, and of course the first thing he sees is Quinn, all coupley and sweet with Sam. They look so in love it's nauseating – and no, Kurt isn't jealous; he's happy for Quinn. She deserves this. It's just… he wants that too. What Quinn has with Sam, and Tina with Mike, and Rachel with Finn – it's all so easy and natural for them, what he's yearning for. The right to be in love, to be in a real, honest relationship without hiding it, without lying whenever someone asks him if there's someone special in his life.

Because there is; so very special, someone who deserves so much more than sneaking around and pretending. He deserves all that is good and beautiful in the world, because _he _is good and beautiful and kind. And he's looking at Kurt from across the choir room with those eyes like warm honey and amber and autumn leaves, the eyes Kurt could gladly drown in every single day. That he'd love to have a _chance_ to drown in.

He doesn't know if he has that chance, if he ever will. But he knows what he does have – he has an amazing friend, and he's done hiding him. He's done hiding _himself_ in fear.

For the next hour and a half Kurt sits alone in the back of the room, waiting for his moment. There's some heated discussion, probably concerning the set list for Nationals, and Rachel is more shrill than ever, and Mr. Schue is pulling those ridiculous faces, but Kurt couldn't care less. He just waits for the end of the rehearsal.

And then it comes. Before anyone can move from their chairs, Kurt's hand shoots up, sure and steady.

"Mr. Schue? I'd like to sing something."

"Kurt? Um… sure."

Every face in the room is turned towards him now – surprised, stunned, curious. No one knows what this is about; no one's heard what he's about to reveal. He never volunteered before – in fact, he refused to sing more than once. It makes this even more special. He stands up gracefully and walks to the center of the room before facing the group of people that he feels more connected to than any of them knows.

And then, slowly and consciously, he lowers his defenses.

"I know that most of you think I'm a stuck up jerk. I may have treated many of you unfairly, making you feel bad. I want to say that I'm sorry. I'm not a saint, but I'm also not exactly who I pretend to be most of the time. I've been playing it safe for years, trying to be popular, not showing much of what makes me who I am in case it wasn't accepted. And I want to say that I'm fed up with it, and I'm going to make some changes. You probably don't care, but I want to tell it to you first, because of two reasons. One, I really like all of you and I hope you can give me a second chance to fit in better. And two – I want to show you something I've been keeping to myself."

Most of the faces that look back at him show different shades of doubt and distrust, but Kurt focuses on those that matter. Quinn looks honestly curious, and so does Sam, who grew a bit closer to Kurt in the big act of the last two weeks. And then there's Blaine – Blaine with his warm smile and his trusting eyes, and this is the last bit of courage that Kurt needs.

Brad the piano guy looks shocked when Kurt tells him what he wants, but he's not one to argue, and a moment later the first notes flow through the air, and Rachel gasps, shaking her head and pursing her lips. Fortunately, she has enough decency to stay quiet.

The moment Kurt starts singing, everything else disappears. He doesn't see the faces in front of him, doesn't hear if anyone reacts in any way. There's just him and the music, this intimate connection, with proper accompaniment and a room that lets his voice fill it and resonate properly, the way he always wanted. He pours all of himself into the song, every note strong and perfect like a diamond. This is what he's good at. This is what he loves. And finally, he's allowing himself to enjoy it.

He chose this song for several reasons – because he loves the show, because it's perfect to display his abilities, but also, maybe most significantly, because of the lyrics. And as he sings it now, every word seems to be written for him, for this moment of daring and the beginning of something new.

_Something has changed within me  
Something is not the same  
I'm through with playing by the rules  
Of someone else's game_

And he is – he _so_ is. No matter who set the rules, Kurt is done – he wants to try and make his own now, rules that will fit his life, his true self.

_Too late for second-guessing  
Too late to go back to sleep  
It's time to trust my instincts  
Close my eyes and leap_

_It's time to try defying gravity  
I think I'll try defying gravity  
Kiss me goodbye I'm defying gravity  
And you won't bring me down_

he sings, and that's what it is – it feels like flying and tastes like freedom, every note sweet and ripe with meaning on his tongue. And when he gets to the end of the song, his voice easily and obediently slides up to high F that took him days of practicing to reach the first time he tried, months ago.

The song ends and Kurt slowly gets back to earth – and suddenly there's applause around him, cheering, and grinning faces, and he finds himself surrounded by most of the Glee club, clapping him on the shoulder, congratulating, praising. He's done it. He sang, he showed them the range of his voice. And they aren't making fun of it – they seem to accept and appreciate him. It's so new that it feels surreal.

The only person standing to the side is Rachel, her face sour and eyebrows drawn, as if she's trying to find a catch, a way he could have faked this. Mercedes catches Kurt's eye and tells him in a conspiratory whisper, "Don't mind her. She sang this song last year and your performance was every bit as good as hers, if not better – she'll need a while to get over it."

Mr. Schue pushes closer to shake Kurt's hand, his grin so wide it's almost creepy. "I can't believe you've been holding out on us for such a long time, Kurt! That was _amazing_! We need to think about a solo for you for Nationals."

There's more cheering and Kurt's head is spinning already. He only wanted to sing – never dared to imagine that they would really appreciate it, not to mention want to showcase it. It feels too good to be true. He turns to find one more face – the face of the person whose opinion he wants the most – and there he is, looking awed and genuinely happy for Kurt, but there's something in his eyes that shouldn't be there. Some trace of worry, a shade of fear. Kurt doesn't have time to investigate now, he has cheerio practice in ten minutes and he needs to talk to Coach first, but as they file out of the room, he catches up with Blaine, no longer waiting until no one sees.

"Hey, so… what did you think?"

Blaine smiles at him, but there's still something off. "You were absolutely stunning, Kurt. Could you come over after your practice? Or will you be too tired? I want to talk to you."

"No, sure I can come. See you later then?"

"See you later."


	17. Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

The walk to Coach Sylvester's office is short and silent, and all too soon, Kurt's standing by the door. It's funny, how he's more afraid of this conversation than he'd been for what he'd just done in Glee. Instinctively, he knows why – Coach is known for her sharp tongue and even though the new rules had stopped her offensive speeches, her expressions are still just as cutting. Kurt can't be sure what to expect from her now, but scathing remarks are high on the list of possibilities.

A small hand touches Kurt's shoulder as he hesitates, and he breathes deeper, Quinn's comforting presence behind him. He turns to her.

"Ready?"

"Yes."

Kurt raises his hand and knocks on the half-open door. "Coach, can we talk to you?"

Sue Sylvester is sitting behind her desk with an unreadable expression, flipping through a journal, and it does nothing to reassure Kurt. Neither does her tone, dry and quipped.

"I'm not interested in the emotional drama of my cheerios. The only thing I want to know is how it will affect my team. So tell me: are you two going to be at each other's throats now?"

"No." They answer in unison.

"Good. That's all I needed, I don't care who you date now. Go and start the warm up."

* * *

Blaine is pacing around the kitchen with a deep frown on his face, waiting for Kurt to pour himself a cup of coffee and settle on a chair. When he faces Kurt at last, he seems almost desperate.

"Please tell me you didn't do it because of what I said about you and Quinn."

He looks so miserable that Kurt wants to hug him, to wipe this expression off his face. But the mere thought of hugging leads his mind where he definitely doesn't want it to go, especially now that he's single, and alone in a house with a boy he's pretty sure he's falling in love with. So he just reassures him with words instead.

"No, I did it because I decided this is what I need. For myself. You only gave me the impulse I needed to do it."

Blaine releases a shaky breath, as if he'd held it for a long time. "Oh thank god. I was afraid I pushed you, and I could never, _ever_ forgive myself if I did, if you did this when you weren't ready. But… I was so _proud_ of you today, Kurt!" Excitement is shining in his eyes now. "And your voice! How could you have hidden such a thing for so long! I mean, a countertenor? Do you know how rare that is?"

Kurt smiles, feeling a blush creep on his cheeks. "I know."

"Wait till my mom hears about it – you won't be able to avoid presentation, I'm afraid."

"It's okay." It's more than okay. The thought that he can actually _sing_ outside his empty house now, practice in front of others and exercise his voice, makes him practically giddy. "I love singing, in case you haven't noticed."

"Oh, good. Because I want to hear so much more! I want you to duet with me at last, I want you to sing Broadway classics – I mean, Kurt, that _song_!" Blaine is so genuinely happy for him, so bubbly, that Kurt belts out bits of several Broadway songs just to tease him, which spurs Blaine to join in, and oh boy, do their voices sound good together. By the time they stop laughing and humming and singing, it's dark outside and Blaine's parents are about to come home, so they retreat to his bedroom instead, where they settle – Blaine on the bed, Kurt in the armchair opposite – to talk at last.

"So when did you and Quinn break up?"

Kurt blushes; he knows how it's gonna sound. "The day after we argued – hey, but no, don't give me that face. You didn't push me. You just made me think and I realized that you were right, that I may be hurting Quinn. So I decided to talk to her. To be honest."

"And?" Blaine's face expresses so much worry.

"And she _hugged_ me. She said she thought I may be. Gay, I mean. It turned out she wanted to talk to me too; about Sam. She fell for him and wanted to give it a chance. So we decided to go our separate ways, but since she really wanted to be the prom queen, we agreed to keep it silent until then. See, it turned out okay in the end – she's still my greatest supporter. Well, apart from my dad, I think."

Blaine's eyes widen even more. "You came out to your dad? Kurt, that's amazing!"

"Yeah, that night after prom. And you were right, he was wonderful."

Blaine's face falls a little despite the happiness. "Oh god, Kurt, I'm so sorry – you had such an important weekend and I wasn't there to support you. I'm a crappy friend."

"It's okay. You needed some time alone. And I was fine – I actually learned a bit about myself in the process."

"But you needed me, needed the support, and I switched my phone off like an offended kid with a temper tantrum." He shakes his head, disappointed.

Kurt glances at him curiously. "Actually, I was wondering – why did you need time away from me? Did I say or do something wrong?"

Blaine shakes his head vehemently. "No, of course not! It's just… I may have um… imagined too much and then I saw you with Quinn and – Sorry, no, it was stupid, just… I just care about you, Kurt. I don't want to screw this up, between us, and I have no idea what I'm doing."

It sounds like Blaine doesn't just mean their friendship. But that's probably just Kurt's imagination, right?

* * *

The following week seems surreal to Kurt in so many different ways, the little changes both insignificant and exhilarating. He sits at the Glee table at lunch twice and the world doesn't end. He talks with Blaine between classes a few times, and even sits next to him in Glee, and no one really cares – as long as he sticks with the cheerios at least half the time and doesn't do anything grossly out of character. And then there's the singing – the whole new world of songs he can do in Glee and, best of all, the _solo_. The third, surprise song for their Nationals list – completely different from the other two. Just Kurt, with a group of dancers, in _Le Jazz Hot_. It's going to be incredible.

But what Kurt loves most is the way Blaine is letting his guard down around him now, revealing bits and facets of himself that Kurt never knew existed. Like how tactile he is, for example.

The first time Blaine touches Kurt's knee, while talking animatedly about his summer job at Six Flags last year, Kurt almost jumps up, surprised. But very soon, he grows to like all the little touches that are essential part of Blaine being completely at ease around him now.

And then, there's something new in the way they talk, too. And it isn't just the fact that they launch into long discussions about fashion and music or debates about which actor is the hottest – even though Kurt immensely enjoys the fact that he has someone to talk about these things with at last. It's also all the little things that make his heart beat faster as they sit in the coffee house trying to keep the surprisingly stifling May heat at bay, or bake muffins together on a Sunday morning, a new tradition of theirs. Things that Blaine just says out of the blue, that keep Kurt reeling and stunned for days afterwards.

"Kurt, that week when we were supposed to express ourselves in Glee, and you refused to sing – what would you have sung if you could be honest about yourself then? I've been wondering."

Kurt can feel his eyebrows raise of their own accord. "You remember that?"

Blaine snorts, slightly bashful. "Of course I remember. The most beautiful boy I've ever met, and completely inaccessible, comes to Glee – it's kind of impossible not to focus on you, you know?" Seeing Kurt blush furiously, he smiles. "So, what would the song be?"

Another time it's, "I wish I'd have stayed at prom that little bit longer, enough to know about you and Quinn then."

"What would you have done?" Kurt asks, a little breathless.

"I'd have sat with you to keep you company, or convinced you to sneak out and go for coffee instead. Or… I'd have danced with you, if you wanted." He says the last bit in a quiet voice that makes Kurt wonder in awe.

"But Blaine… after Sadie Hawkins –"

"For you, I would."

It makes Kurt's heart ache in that delicious way he'd never knew before Blaine. But neither of them seems ready to do anything with it yet.

* * *

New York and Nationals are everything Kurt has dreamed of.

They finish in fourth place, so close to the podium, but Kurt can't find it in himself to sulk the way Rachel does. The trip to New York is full to the brim of firsts and dreams coming true. It's his first time travelling by plane and sleeping in a hotel, and the fact that they can only afford two hotel rooms and he ends up bunking with Blaine doesn't present one bit of a problem. (And when Kurt wakes up in Blaine's arms in the middle of the night again, and tries to move away, a strong arm pulls him closer and a sleep-rough voice whispers "Mm, no, come here. I like you cuddling like this.") He gets to spend every spare moment walking through the crowded streets of New York and dreaming about coming back here a year from now, to study.

The best part is having his friend by his side, just as excited about everything, even when Kurt wakes him up at five in the morning after the post-almost-winning party to see some more of the city before they go back to Lima. Blaine doesn't complain – he just gets dressed quickly and they sneak out.

Morning chill in the air, they grab coffee and bagels to eat at Tiffany's, watching with sleepy eyes as the city that never sleeps stretches for the busy morning, and then they decide that Central Park is a good place to finish their New York adventure.

And it's there, with morning sun filtering through the thick canopy of leaves, with the happy, sated feeling in his heart and his gut, with the promise of coming back here to live free and open, when Kurt feels something in him switch and settle _just right_.

And in that lazy morning silence, when Blaine's hand brushes against his, Kurt simply takes it and holds on. Blaine looks at him and smiles, and he smiles back.

They don't let go.

Kurt doesn't know what will come next year. But for now, there's summer before them; time to talk and sing and spend endless hours together, not caring about school or popularity, or curious eyes. Time to figure out what it is between them; what they want. Time to be who they are: two boys in love.

THE END

* * *

_A/N: Thank you for following me on yet another story! Your words and opinions mean a world to me. _

_I won't promise anything yet, because I know how capricious my muse is, but there's another story in this 'verse complete in my head - a oneshot companion piece/sequel in Blaine's POV. I just need to find the time to write it down, which can be tricky. But I'll definitely try at some point soon, or my plot bunnies will bounce a hole in my brain ;)_


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